


What Loves Have Come and Gone

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Canonical Character Death, Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Talking to Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James doesn't want to be able to communicate with ghosts.  He just wants a normal life.  But the ghost he meets in the supermarket queue has other ideas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was with some wariness that James made the trip to Sainsbury's. It wasn't the driving that bothered him; he could've spent all day in the car. He never had an episode in a car. No, the difficulty was being in the supermarket itself. If he came too close to the wrong person…but it was the same everywhere, wasn't it? The only way to prevent any more uncomfortable situations was to avoid people entirely, and much as James liked to solve problems, he couldn't solve that one.

He managed to navigate the car park without any trouble, though he could feel himself tense when he entered the building. For some reason, episodes were more likely when he was indoors. He'd never been able to work out why.

Something fell behind him, and James jumped, whirling round to see that a child had upended a box of Weetabix. James forced himself to take several deep breaths; he'd never have the nerve to buy anything anywhere if he remained this tightly wound, and he had to eat. He attempted to stand up straight (never one of his strongest skills) and carried on walking.

He was waiting in the checkout queue when he felt the familiar tingling sensation between his shoulder blades. _No. Not now. Please._

And then he could feel her beside him, a kindly, almost motherly woman. _That's my husband. If you could just talk to him…_

James wished for the queue to move more quickly, so the man in front of him (who seemed like a perfectly nice man, if a bit remote) would leave and his wife's ghost would fade. James wasn't proud of his own selfish desires, but at the start, he'd tried to help every ghost that had come to him, and look where that had got him.

Now the ghost was desperate, and James could feel her emotions combining with his own. He hated this stage, because it meant he often couldn't resist the ghosts' wishes, not when they felt like his wishes. Grief flowed through him, terrible grief at having her life cut short, having to leave the man she loved. He bent forward beneath the weight of it, still trying with ever-diminishing strength to fight. _Don't…please…_

"Are you all right, man?" That was the ghost's husband, just ahead of him, and as the man's concerned blue eyes met his, James felt a deep familiarity and an even deeper longing. He was lost. The fight was lost.

"Robbie?" James whispered. He wasn't sure whether he was speaking or whether the ghost woman was…there was so much overlap now.

The man…Robbie…gave James a pleasant but puzzled frown. "Sorry…have we…?"

No. He didn't understand. James rested a hand on his arm. "I've missed you."

He could see the friendliness ebb from Robbie's eyes, replaced with wariness. "What are you playing at?"

James shivered violently. Once the cold set in, he only had a matter of minutes, and then, for good or ill, it would be over. He just had to see this through to its end. "Need to…need to say…" His teeth were nearly chattering.

Now Robbie looked alarmed, and he guided James away from the queue and into an empty aisle, helping him sit on the floor. "What is it you need to say, lad? You can tell me." His voice was so gentle it nearly brought tears to James's eyes.

James leaned against Robbie, his energy almost spent. "You…you know I love you…don't you?"

"Of course I do," Robbie said, still gentle. "I know that."

James meant to say something else, but his voice didn't seem to work, and the usual black lines were already swimming before his eyes. He slumped against Robbie, feeling the ghost woman leave him just before he lost consciousness.

***

Waking up somewhere unfamiliar was a sadly frequent occurrence in James's life, and usually the place was a hospital. Today wasn't any different.

What was different was the man sitting in his hospital room, the ghost woman's husband. James searched his memory for the man's name, but as always, everything that had happened under the ghost's influence seemed fuzzy and unreal.

"Hello," James said cautiously.

The man looked relieved. "You're awake." He crossed to James's hospital bed. "Glad to see you doing better. I thought for a moment you might…you know."

James wondered exactly how many euphemisms there were for dying. "No. Still here." He sat up with a grunt and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" The man sounded alarmed.

"Leaving," James said.

"But you can't! They've got tests to run, and…"

"And the tests won't find anything," James said wearily. "It's not my heart or brain or liver or any other organ. It's not an allergic reaction and it's not low blood pressure or low blood sugar. They'd very much like it to be epilepsy, and sometimes, even though the brain scan won't provide any evidence for it, they'll diagnose me with epilepsy anyway, just so they have their answer and can say they've done something. It's also not a vitamin deficiency. Have I covered everything?"

The man was staring at him. "I wouldn't know. I'm a policeman."

James sighed, his anger fading. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"This happened to you before, then?"

James nodded.

"Often?"

"More often than I'd like," James said, struggling to keep the edge from his voice.

The man nodded. "And they've no idea what it is?"

James shrugged.

"Sorry," the man said. "It's none of my business." He paused. "Who did you think I was?"

James frowned. "What?"

"In Sainsbury's. Do you remember talking to me?"

"I remember that I did," James said. "I don't know what I said."

"I thought you knew me at first," the man said. "You called me by name. But you couldn't have…you said you missed me, and you wanted me to know you loved me."

James winced. That was…unfortunate.

"Who did you think I was?" the man asked again. 

_I thought you were my husband, because you were hers._ But he couldn't say that. He always felt crushed between the truth and what he had to say to keep up appearances. This man seemed nice. He didn't want to lie to him, but if he told him the truth, he'd be in the hospital for quite a while longer than he intended to be. This, James could tell, was not a man who would believe him.

So he told half the truth. "I thought you were my husband."

The man blinked in surprise. "Are you married?"

"No." James sighed. "When I have my…episodes…sometimes I get a bit confused."

The man didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer. James didn't blame him. "But you know my name."

"What is it?"

"What?"

"Your name."

The man gave James a puzzled frown. "Robbie."

"Right," James said. "Robbie."

Robbie headed for the hospital room door, then paused and turned around.

"I won't ask," he said, "because I said I wouldn't. But I want you to know I know there's more going on here you're not saying."

Not only was he a policeman, he was an observant policeman. Bollocks.

James tried not to sound as though he was panicking even though that was exactly what he was doing. "What do you want?"

Robbie frowned. "Want?"

"That's how this works, isn't it?" James asked, sounding short of breath even to his own ears. "You tell me you know I have a secret so I'll do what you want."

Robbie stood still a moment. Then he shook his head. "No, lad, that's not how this works. And I'm sorry your experience gave you such a shabby view of human nature." He left.

James was relieved they hadn't given him an IV. All he had to do was remove the monitor from his finger and disconnect the things they'd stuck to his chest to measure his heart rate. His heart was fine--always had been.

It took a bit more doing to convince the doctors that he should be discharged, but he managed that once he'd confirmed that, roughly a year ago, he'd visited a hospital very much like this one, and they'd run all the tests the doctors wanted to run here, with entirely uninteresting results. When they'd called the other hospital and had confirmed the truth of what James was telling them, they let him go.

When he left the hospital, James wasn't sure how he'd get to Sainsbury's to pick up his car (taxis were dangerous, and buses triply so). But he needn't have worried; Robbie was in the car park, leaning against his car.

"First I thought I'd take you back to your car," Robbie said as James approached. "But then I didn't know if you'd be all right to drive, so…"

"It never happens when I'm driving," James said abruptly.

Robbie nodded. "I don't suppose apologising would do any good?"

"For which one of us?" James asked.

Robbie managed a rueful grimace. "I wasn't very nice to you in there."

James shrugged. "I didn't tell you the truth. You had no reason to be nice about that."

Robbie gave James a thoughtful look, and James wondered how much of him Robbie could see. Probably more than James would've liked, but as James didn't particularly want anyone to know anything about him, that was a low bar to reach.

"Will you tell me the truth on the way?" Robbie asked.

"You won't believe me," James said.

"Let me decide that."

James sighed. "I'll tell you when we get there. That way, if you decide I'm crazy, I can walk away and you'll never have to see me again. You'll never even have to go back to that Sainsbury's."

"I like that Sainsbury's," Robbie grumbled, but his eyes were kind as he said it.

They drove in silence for a while, until Robbie said, "So, what do you do?"

"I work in the stockroom of a book shop," James said. "Orders and inventory, mostly done online or by phone."

Robbie nodded. "Solitary work."

"Safe work." He hadn't meant to say that aloud.

But Robbie didn't take the obvious conversational route. "Not like policing."

James glanced at him. "That doesn't worry you?"

Robbie's expression turned rather bleak. "Doesn't matter now if it's dangerous or not."

"i doubt your wife would say that," James said, and then immediately regretted it. He'd meant to introduce the idea that he'd met Robbie's wife slowly and casually…not like this.

He could feel Robbie tense beside him. "What do you know about my wife?"

"I know she loves you," James said. "And I know she died."

Robbie's voice had lost its kindness. "You a friend of hers, then?"

James wished he hadn't promised to tell Robbie the truth. Robbie wasn't going to like it. "No. I never met her until this morning."

Robbie bristled. "Is that meant to be funny?"

"No," James said. "All I wanted was to buy some food, but her ghost spoke to me in the queue and…"

"Oh, is that all," Robbie said. "Her ghost spoke to you."

James felt the prickling between his shoulder blades return. Bloody hell, not now! "Could you pull over a minute?"

"Like hell I will," Robbie snapped. "You can't just say something like that and then bugger off!"

Robbie's wife was back. _He doesn't believe you._

James gritted his teeth. _No, he doesn't._

_Then I'll have to make him see._

James had seen any number of films about ghostly possession, but he found them all ludicrous. Ghosts didn't need to possess the living--him, for instance--when they could make you feel what they felt, remember what they remembered. They could share enough of themselves with him to blur their identities with his for a short time--no possession required.

James looked at Robbie again, and the deep love he felt at the sight of him almost took James's breath away.

Robbie had sensed a change, and looked warily at James. "What now?"

"Don't blame the boy, Robbie. I'm the one who got him into this mess," James said. "If you want to blame someone, blame me."

Robbie's face was a picture of consternation. "What?"

"You might want to pull over," James said calmly. "As he suggested to you before."

This time, Robbie did what James suggested. "Look, I don't know what you're playing at…"

James chuckled softly. He'd expected as much. "You always were stubborn, in your own way. I think that's why Morse liked you."

Robbie was staring openly at James now. "Who are you?"

James reached over and rested his hand on Robbie's. How many times had they touched each other's hands like this, in times of trouble or worry, or even in quiet times, times of togetherness? "I spoke to you before."

"Why are you doing this?" The words emerged as a soft cry of pain.

James met Robbie's eyes. "Because I couldn't leave you yet."

Robbie's mouth worked, and the grief in his eyes was heartbreaking. "You did leave. I said stay. I begged you."

"I know, love," James said, his heart aching at the thought of Robbie, alone and broken in that hospital room. "And I did try."

Robbie looked down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"No," James said, wishing there were something more he could do to help his Robbie through this. "I'm sorry too."

Robbie took James's hand, looking down at it. "Val…what do I do now? I don't know how to do this…"

"Oh, sweetheart." James reached out to touch Robbie's face, and Robbie leaned into the touch. "I wish I had the answers. I do."

Robbie's eyes searched James's. "But…you're all right now? You're in a good place?"

James laughed, stroking Robbie's cheek. "I'm with you. That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Robbie said. "Yeah, that's brilliant." He paused. "Will you stay? Or do you have to move on to…wherever?"

"I stayed in the hope I'd be able to talk to you again," James said.

"Well…you still can," Robbie said, voice unsteady. "We can have coffee once a week. Rent this bloke for a few hours, and…"

James shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be fair to you or to James."

Robbie looked startled.

"What?" James asked.

"All that time talking with him, and I never asked his name," Robbie said quietly.

"I think you should take him for coffee once in a while," James said. "He could do with a friend."

Robbie nodded. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know," James said. "But I don't think I'll ever be very far from you." He set a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Look after the kids for me."

"I will," Robbie whispered. "I promise." He rested his own hands on James's shoulders, and in that moment, the two of them knew each was loved by the other, and always would be.

James shivered. The cold was creeping in again.

But Robbie knew what the shivering meant this time. "You're going to faint, aren't you?"

James nodded.

Robbie's hands gripped James's shoulders more firmly. "I've got you."

James meant to say he knew that, or thank you, or something, but the darkness took him again.

***

When he woke, he was slumped across the car, leaning against Robbie, who was holding him. Gingerly, James lifted his hands and pushed himself upright.

Robbie's eyes searched James's face. "Val?"

James shook his head. "No. Just me. Sorry."

Robbie looked guilty. "I didn't mean to…"

James pulled away, retreating to his own side of the car for safety's sake, even though a part of him that had nothing to do with Val still wanted to be held. "I know what you meant."

Robbie nodded, clearing his throat. "Right. Well." He started the car.

James hunched forward in his seat, wishing he could disappear.

"Thank you," Robbie said after a long silence.

James nodded but didn't say anything.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Robbie asked.

"i can't remember a time when I couldn't," James said, stealing a cautious glance at Robbie to see if he was poking fun…but he seemed serious enough.

"Does it always make you…you know, lose consciousness like that?"

"It didn't used to. But the harder I fight against it happening, the less time the ghost has to get a message through, and the worse the aftermath is."

Robbie nodded. "You were out for hours the first time, but this last time, it couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes."

"Good to know," James said.

"Can I ask…why do you fight them? Don't people believe you?"

"Sometimes they do."

"Then why…?"

"Because you get a certain reputation when you talk to ghosts, and maybe I don't want that," James snapped. "There's not a place I've worked or lived my whole life where I haven't been 'that strange bloke,' and that's when I do fight the ghosts. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't fight them."

"I see," Robbie said.

"I doubt it." James winced at the harshness of his own words. "Look, I don't doubt you mean well, but you can't possibly know what this is like for me."

"No," Robbie said, "don't suppose I can."

And that was why James didn't spend much time talking to people--because even with a sympathetic listener who believed in what James could do, James could only manage to be cutting and cruel. Fear and solitude had robbed him of the ability to talk to anyone with anything remotely resembling normal social graces.

"Sorry," James mumbled, and meant it.

They arrived at the car park in a complete and uncomfortable silence--well, uncomfortable to James, anyway. James moved to open the car door.

"Wait," Robbie said. "I…can't really say I'm the world's most sociable bloke, but…would you like to go for coffee sometime?"

Even after everything that had happened, Robbie still wanted to see him again? James hesitated.

"I'd like to," James said carefully, "but…I don't always do well in crowded rooms."

Robbie frowned a bit, clearly thinking. "What about outdoors? We can go somewhere that has tables out in the open."

"If you're really willing to go to such ridiculous lengths just to have coffee with me," James said, "then yes. I'd like that."

"Got a mobile? I've got into texting because of the kids."

James nodded, and they exchanged mobile numbers. "And listen, if you change your mind…"

"None of that," Robbie said. "When I say I'll do something, I do it."

"Yes, but I don't want you to feel obligated…"

"I don't," Robbie said. "I'll send you a text when I get home and we'll work out a day, time, and location. All right?"

James nodded, giving Robbie a hesitant smile. "Thank you."

"Thank you for letting her talk to me," Robbie said. "I know it's…difficult for you."

It hadn't been that difficult once James had decided he wasn't going to fight her, and James only had foggy memories of what had actually been said and done after Val had arrived. He suspected that was a good thing, to spare his own blushes if nothing else.

"You're welcome," James said. "I'm glad you got to say goodbye."

Robbie nodded, mouth setting in a firm line to stop himself revealing any untoward emotion. James had done the same thing himself many times. "So am I." He looked at James. "You take care of yourself, James, all right?"

James nodded, a bit warmed that Robbie had bothered to find out his name. (He hadn't told Robbie, had he? He couldn't remember telling him.) "You too, Robbie. I'll see you soon."

Robbie smiled warmly at him. It was the first smile James could remember seeing on Robbie's face, and for a moment, James felt as though he'd caught a glimpse of the Robbie Val had known.

"Go on now," Robbie said. "You'll see me soon enough, and you've still got shopping to do."

James shook his head. "Not today. I'll manage on takeaway and Marmite till I have a chance to come back here."

Robbie nodded. "Wish I could help you, but I'm not much of a cook meself. Val always…" He made a vague 'holding a pan' gesture. "…you know."

"Flipped the pancakes?" James said innocently.

Robbie laughed. "Away with you, before I flip your pancakes."

James grinned, getting out of the car and heading for his own. When he turned back, he saw Robbie was waiting, probably to make sure James reached his car safely. James gave Robbie an awkward little wave before getting into his car, and Robbie returned the wave, pulling away once he knew James was all right.

As James left the Sainsbury's car park, he wondered if, in spite of everything, he'd made a friend in Robbie.

He thought maybe he had.


	2. Chapter 2

James received a text message just as he was leaving work. _I'm here. Hope you're still coming._

James smiled and responded, _On my way._ He'd been cautiously looking forward to his meeting with Robbie all day. It was unusual for James to go anywhere after work other than straight home. But more than that, he'd been thinking about the way Robbie had helped him when he'd had his episode in Sainsbury's. Robbie had made sure he was safe, and had even gone with him to make sure he'd be all right, even though he'd certainly been under no obligation to do so. Even in his grief, Robbie was a deeply kind person, and it was…pleasant to look forward to being with someone he knew would be nice to him.

The weather was sunny, and Robbie had found them a lovely outdoor cafe where they could sit in the open air. James waved as he approached, and Robbie waved back. Two cups already sat on the table.

"What's this?" James asked, taking his seat beside Robbie.

"You said you didn't like being inside," Robbie said. "Sorry if it's not what you would've ordered, but by the time I thought of asking you, I knew you were driving and didn't want to call you."

"This is fine," James said, touched by the gesture and deeply relieved that he wouldn't have to go inside, where it would be crowded and the likelihood of a ghost attached to someone in there would be high. "Cheers." He took a sip--regular coffee, with cream and sugar. Lovely.

"You're young, so you probably like those fancy whipped cream mochaccino chai latte things, but every time I try to look at that menu, me eyes cross," Robbie said.

James smiled. "No, this is perfect. Normally I order the first thing I see so I can get out quickly. Unfortunately, if I've ordered something complicated, getting away becomes impossible."

Robbie frowned. "Have you had it happen in a coffee shop before?"

If he told Robbie the entire list of places it had happened, Robbie would be thoroughly bored, and they'd be here until Saturday. "More than once. Coffee shops, pubs, restaurants."

"Nowhere's safe," Robbie said.

James kept his gaze down, afraid he might give away more than Robbie had already discerned. "Nowhere with people." He winced as he realised how what he'd said might be taken. "I'm sorry. I don't mean you. I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Robbie said. "And it's all right."

James relaxed slightly. It was only…he hadn't had someone to talk to in so long, and now that he did have Robbie, he didn't want to alienate him. If he could avoid it. "If I have an episode here…it's not likely, but…"

Robbie nodded. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"If you could just stay with me," James said. He knew he didn't have to say more; Robbie wouldn't let him run into traffic or hurt himself or get himself arrested (yes, that had happened before too).

"And when you start shivering, I know enough to make sure you're sitting down so you won't fall," Robbie said.

"I know it's a burden," James said.

Robbie shook his head. "No. It's better to be prepared."

James didn't want to talk about his own difficulties any more. All he did in his own mind was think about them; he didn't want them to be the only thing he could talk about with someone else as well. "How was your day?"

Robbie shrugged. "I'm on light duties at the moment. They're waiting to see what happens to me."

James tilted his head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I haven't been coping very well," Robbie said. He shook his head. "But that can't be interesting to you."

"If you're interested, I'm interested," James said. He suspected Robbie didn't have all that many people he could say these things to, and really, he was gratified to be trusted this way. Besides, all he really knew so far about Robbie was that he was a widower and a policeman who apparently didn't mind befriending someone antisocial who spoke with ghosts.

"When it happened, everything was too much," Robbie said. "I'd no control over anything. Someone would look at me and I'd cry. And I drank as though it were my job."

James nodded. "And now?"

"Still drinking a bit too much. Crying less. Sometimes there's a noise in the house and I can't stop myself thinking it's her." He paused. "Although, given what you've told me, maybe it is."

James nodded. "I couldn't have heard her if she hadn't already been near you."

Robbie sat back, expression pensive. "We're all haunted one way or another. Some of us more literally than others." He gestured to James. "I take it you'd never want to be a policeman."

James shuddered at the idea. "God, no. All the crying and pleading…" He shook his head. "I couldn't. There'd be nothing left of me."

Robbie frowned. "How do you mean?"

James had never tried to explain this to another person. He'd come up with enough explanations in his own mind, for his own satisfaction, but he'd never tried to make anyone else believe them. Until now, he'd assumed no one would care enough to ask. "Ghosts communicate with me by making me feel what they feel…remember what they remember. Investigating crimes, there would be ghosts in the office and ghosts at the crime scenes…there'd be no time to breathe, no time to myself alone."

Robbie looked astonished. "I'd no idea. I knew it made you lose consciousness, and assumed that couldn't be good, but…is it always like that? Having to feel what someone else does? Did?"

"Always," James said with a nod.

"What…" He caught himself. "Sorry."

"What did Val feel when she spoke to you?" 

Robbie nodded sheepishly. "You don't have to answer."

"No, it's all right." James paused, trying to recapture some sense of what had happened in those hazy moments. "I could feel how much she loved you. How sad she was to be away from you. And she knew what you felt for her. That was never in question."

Robbie nodded, mouth tight. "Good." He paused. "You work in a book shop, you said?"

James could recognise a conversational redirect when he saw one. Robbie hadn't even bothered to make it subtle. "Mm. I'm in charge of ordering and inventory. Strictly back-room stuff."

"No customer service," Robbie said wryly.

James couldn't imagine he would've kept his job two weeks if he'd had to deal with customers every day. "No."

"What about outside work? Hobbies, like?"

"Music. I play guitar."

"Do you? That's impressive."

James snorted. "Not really. It was a gift."

Robbie looked puzzled. "The guitar?"

"The ability to play it. I was ten years old, and had some contact with a ghost with some musical ability. Before her, I couldn't play the guitar. After her, I could." Put like that, it sounded unnerving, and James doubted he'd be excited if something like that happened to him now. He'd probably be horrified. But the gift had come at a good time, when he had still trusted the ghosts and had trusted himself to help them.

Robbie blinked. "How often does that happen, you learning things from your ghosts?"

"It doesn't now," James said. "I don't think they can leave you anything if you're afraid of them. And that's fine. At this stage, I don't want anything."

"Think if we had a mindmeld, I could learn to play?" Robbie asked, his tone light.

"I don't know about a mindmeld, but if you wanted to learn, I could teach you."

"I'll think about it," Robbie said.

James ducked his head, a bit embarrassed that he'd assumed so much. Music lessons would be a weekly meeting. Maybe Robbie didn't want to see him that much…didn't want to be reminded of his wife. "Sorry."

"What, because I'm not sure about music lessons?" Robbie shook his head. "Don't be. I'm not sure about much these days. It's nothing to do with you."

James nodded. "I understand."

"Good, because I'm not sure I do," Robbie said. "I'm trying to be a normal person…my normal self. But some days, I can't even find him."

"I understand that," James said, thinking of his own struggles. 

Robbie nodded. "Course you do. That's why I can tell you these things."

That was how James felt too. Because they were each keeping so much hidden from other people, they could recognise it in each other.

"I'm glad you agreed to do this," Robbie said.

"So am I," James said. "Next time I'll host you, and we can give my espresso maker a workout."

"You might have to water mine," Robbie said wryly. "I've only had espresso once and it was an interesting experience."

"This sounds like a good story," James said with a grin.

"Apparently I talked a mile a minute and had ridiculous amounts of energy for an hour or so, and then I sat down to read and fell asleep."

James tried to imagine a chipper, overenergetic Robbie. "I can't quite picture it."

"Neither can I, and I was there!" Robbie said. "But if you don't mind all that, I'd be glad to visit you."

"I'll just give you espresso and let you paint my living room to work it off," James said lightly.

"Good. Put me to work," Robbie said, chuckling.

James looked at his now-empty cup. "Thank you."

"For painting your living room? I haven't done it yet."

"No," James said. "For letting me feel normal for a little while."

Robbie's expression softened. "Likewise."

They sat together in friendly silence for another hour before either one of them even thought about going home.


	3. Chapter 3

James was awakened by the sound of his mobile ringing. It was Robbie. James checked the clock--1 AM. Ouch. He answered the phone and steeled himself for sadness. "Robbie?"

"James? Hello. How…how are you?" It was Robbie, and he was drunk.

"Erm, fine," James said, trying to work out what to say. He wasn't used to late-night calls. Actually, he wasn't used to any calls, but he did feel a little pinprick of pride that Robbie trusted him enough to treat him as a confidante. "I was sleeping. Why aren't you?"

"Don't sleep any more. Can't." Robbie sounded deeply unhappy. "Listen. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," James said, hoping he'd have the answer to whatever it was Robbie wanted to know.

"Is Val there? Can I talk to her?"

The pain James felt at the question was sharp and breathtaking. Robbie didn't care about James. All James was to Robbie was a gateway to wherever his wife had gone…and it was the cruelest blow James could've imagined.

"James?"

James's eyes prickled, and he was too close to sleep to say anything but the truth. "I thought I was your friend."

"You are!" Robbie sounded surprised that James would doubt it.

But James knew better now. Robbie knew how much James hated yielding control to the ghosts…knew what a toll it took on him. Apparently all that meant nothing compared with the ability to talk to his wife again.

And some part of James wanted to try it. Even though Val's visit to Robbie had been more of a chance to say goodbye than anything else, James almost wanted Robbie to like him badly enough that he would try to call Val, try to bring her back for Robbie. Almost.

"I don't think I am," James said, fighting to keep control of his voice. "And I think I should go."

"Wait, wait," Robbie said, sounding confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." When he was hurt, James could be all sharp corners and ice. Maybe it had been a mistake to assume he could be anything else. "But the next time you think about calling this number, you might want to remember that it's James who lives here. Not Val." He hung up before Robbie could respond.

It wasn't until he'd put his mobile away and was settled in bed that the tears came. He let them.

***

The next morning, James received a text message from Robbie. _I'm so sorry about last night. I was drunk and not thinking straight, and I missed her so much. It was awful of me to ask, but I hope you can understand._

James was sure Robbie was sorry, especially since Robbie probably knew that if he never spoke to James again, he'd never speak to Val again. Never mind that Robbie probably would never speak to Val again anyway. He texted back a curt, _Right._

The next text came an hour later. _Are we all right?_

_I'm fine. How are you?_

_You know what I mean._

James didn't bother to answer. He did know what Robbie meant, and they weren't all right.

Another text from Robbie. _Let me make it up to you. I know a few pubs with outdoor seating. I'll buy you a pint._

James wanted to say yes. He wanted to go back to the way things had been before, and he wanted to stop hurting. But he didn't know how to trust a man who could ask of him what Robbie had asked. _Val won't be there._

_I said I was sorry._

_Amazingly, that doesn't make everything better. I'm not stupid, Robbie._

_Never said you were._

_Leave me alone. I'm working._

_I want to make this right._

_You can't._

Robbie didn't text him again.

***

When James didn't hear from Robbie, he retreated back behind his usual facade, returning to the polite but remote person he'd been before he'd met Robbie. It was safer not to engage…safer not to be hurt when someone disappointed you. He would be sharp and cold, like glass.

Yes, he was lonely. Of course he was. But he had been for a long while, and his mistake had been not accepting it. He'd wanted something more, and he shouldn't have. It shouldn't have meant so much to him.

Never mind. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

***

James was opening the door to his flat when he felt the ghost. _I need you to tell my son something._

James didn't let the man finish before he closed himself off and mentally pushed the ghost aside. _Go away._

The cold took him entirely by surprise. It filled his body, making it difficult to move, difficult to think. He dropped to his knees--not because he wanted to, but because he could no longer feel his legs or feet. He was freezing to death in the middle of summer.

With numb, unwieldy fingers, he took out his phone. Even if Robbie only wanted to be around James when Val came through, he would help him stay safe, if only to protect his connection to his wife. James was sure of it.

"Hello? James?" Robbie sounded relieved.

"Robbie," James managed to whisper, tongue awkward in his mouth. "Cold."

"Where are you?"

"Flat. Mine." James struggled to remember the address. "8 Wood…" He made a sound of frustration as the chill deepened its hold on him. He couldn't stop shivering.

"8 Woodstock Road? I'll be there in a tick. Hang on, James. I'm leaving right now."

James nodded, or thought he did. It was hard to tell now; he'd been so numbed that it felt as though his mind were the only part of him that could move. He was lying on his side on the floor; how long had that been true?

_The dark,_ James thought, and then it was upon him.

***

James woke to the sensation of someone stroking his hair.

"I'm here, James," Robbie whispered. "You called me, and I'm here."

James tried to sit up, but his whole body ached, and he was so tired, so spent. He sighed at the effort.

Robbie's hand stilled. "James? Are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," James managed. He wasn't on the floor any more; he seemed to be lying on a sofa. His sofa. And his head and shoulders were resting in Robbie's lap.

Robbie's hand rested gently on James's shoulder. "Can you talk at all?"

That was a good question. "Yes." He paused. "How'd I get in?"

"I carried you in," Robbie said. "I can manage a fireman's hold when I have to. Though you're almost tall enough that your hands and feet drag on the ground."

James managed a slightly pained chuckle at the mental image.

"What happened? When I saw you lying there, I thought…" But he didn't have to say what he'd thought.

"A ghost came and I…shut myself away from him. Apparently this is what happens when I do that. Stupid. Should've known better."

"I wanted to wake you, but I didn't know what that would do to you," Robbie whispered. "I didn't want to make things worse."

James snorted. "They couldn't be worse."

Robbie's grip on his shoulder tightened. "That's not true."

_He means if I'd died,_ James thought, and that was a startling realisation. He closed his eyes. "You'd miss Val."

"I'd miss you," Robbie said. "I have missed you. I wanted to call you, but I didn't think you'd talk to me, and I didn't know what to say in a message."

"That night you called me…I would've talked to you all night. I was ready to. I wanted to help." _But you didn't want me._

"Shit," Robbie said. "James…I'm sorry…I…"

"And the thing of it is, I understand," James said, opening his eyes again. "It makes sense that you'd rather have your wife than me. But she's not here now. I'm what's left. And I'm not willing to be her substitute. If I'm not what you're looking for, then tell me that and leave me alone. Don't let me delude myself into thinking something else is going on."

Robbie nodded slowly. "There's no excuse for what I did. Asking you to hurt yourself for me. Making you think I only wanted to talk to you because of what you could do. But you have to believe, James…you suffering like this is never what I wanted."

James wasn't sure whether Robbie meant being incapacitated by ghosts or the emotional pain James was feeling, but Robbie could've meant either, or both.

"I understand if you don't want to see me," Robbie said slowly. "If you're done with me. But I hope you're not. I hope you'll give me the chance to show you that I see you when I look at you. Not my wife. My friend. And I'm glad you called me today, because when I think of what could've happened…" His voice shook and he couldn't finish his sentence.

"You're the only one I could call," James said. "You're the only one who knows about me. The truth."

Robbie was silent for a long while. "I didn't know that."

James sighed. "I don't exactly advertise. And you know I'm not social."

Robbie gave him a slight smile. "Aye, I know."

James touched Robbie's arm. "Can we try again?"

"I'd like to."

"So would I," James said. 

Robbie looked relieved, and he nodded. "Good. Is there...anything you need?"

James sighed, closing his eyes. "A nap."

Robbie laughed gently. "Have one, then. I'll be here when you wake up." His fingers brushed through James's hair again, and James thought he hadn't felt anything so comforting in a long time.

He was asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to lindenharp, who helped me with this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

They were sitting in the park when James felt the familiar tingling between his shoulder blades. He sighed.

Robbie glanced over at him. "What is it?"

"Ghost," James said.

Robbie instantly went on the alert. "What should I do?"

James met his eyes. "Stay close?"

Robbie nodded. "Of course."

James could feel the ghost beside him…a frail, elderly man with a twinkling sense of humour. _Do you see the man playing chess with himself?_

 _Yes,_ James answered, glancing at the man, who seemed to be roughly the same age as his ghost.

_That's my George. Would it be all right if I spoke with him?_

Usually, ghosts didn't ask--they insisted. James took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself. _Yes._

He looked at George again, and this time he smiled. So George was still coming to the place they'd always gone together. Still playing chess too…probably badly as always. James stood, then looked down at himself in surprise.

"Everything all right?" That was Robbie, trying not to sound as nervous as he was.

James nodded. "I was bedridden in the end, but even before that…" He shook his head. "It's been a long time since standing and walking were easy for me. Arthritis, you know."

Robbie nodded sympathetically. "Can I help you anywhere, sir?"

James chuckled. "No, thank you, young man." He gazed at George. "I know where I'm going."

George was in the midst of what seemed to be some fairly intense strategising when James approached. James surveyed the board, then smiled. "Same old George. You never know when you're winning."

George spun round, shocked by the repetition of their private joke. He stared at James for a moment, clearly assessing the situation.

"Hello, old man," James said with a grin.

George struggled to his feet. "David?"

James nodded. "How are you?"

"Not as fit as you, clearly," George said, clutching James's hands in his. "It's so good to see you well."

James could remember how steadfastly George had nursed him when he'd been ill. "You took good care of me."

George's eyes filled with tears, but he held them back. "You were never any trouble. You know that." He gestured to James. "How are you…this?"

James chuckled. "Don't get too excited, old man. The body's a loaner. I'm returning it in a minute."

George's face fell. "That soon?"

"There's only so long I can watch you struggle through a chess game," James joked.

George nodded, still holding James's hands tightly. "I've missed you."

"I'm always beside you," James said. "And occasionally I have a bit of fun. Do you remember that breeze that caught your hat last winter?"

"And it landed on the snowman. I knew that was you!" George laughed. "You never liked that hat."

"Never," James said. "But I always liked you."

George nodded. "I liked you too. Still do." He looked at James. "I will see you again?"

"Of course you will," James said. "That's always been the plan. I'll wait, and one day you'll join me."

"Good," George said, squeezing James's hands. Then he frowned. "Who's the geezer keeps hovering nearby and staring at us?"

James turned to see, then chuckled. "That's Robbie. He's friends with the chap this body belongs to. I suppose you could call him my minder."

"Pity," George said, eyes merry. "I thought perhaps you'd brought me your replacement."

James laughed. "You're wicked. No." He sobered a bit. "He has lost his wife though. I don't know how recently."

George nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "Is she with him the way you're with me?"

"I don't know," James said, pretending to be exasperated. "I haven't met every ghost there is, you know. I've been a bit busy with you."

George laughed. "All right, all right. I'm sorry I asked."

James moved closer to him. "Don't be sorry. For anything."

"Well," George whispered softly. "You were always worth it."

James hated to leave George again, but the lad in charge of this body had been good enough to lend it, and he didn't want to do it any damage. "Shall we shock Robbie and kiss goodbye?"

"You've gone to all this trouble," George said briskly. "I think you'd better kiss me."

They didn't make it long or involved, not like some of the younger people did these days. But it was an excellent goodbye kiss, and James was grateful for it.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," George said, reluctantly releasing James's hands. "Go on. Back to the lad's friend before I decide to have my wicked way with you."

James laughed. "Same old George."

George nodded. "Goodbye, David."

"Au revoir, I think," James said, backing away with some reluctance.

George pulled a face. "Your French always was rubbish."

"You love that about me," James said.

George laughed and waved goodbye, and James returned the wave. With some difficulty, George turned back to his chess game, and James returned to Robbie.

"James?" Robbie asked cautiously.

"Not quite yet," James said, returning to the bench and sitting. He could feel the ghost beginning to pull away from him, but it was in the early stages yet.

Robbie sat beside him. "You don't look cold."

James frowned at him. "Thank you?"

"Normally you get cold and faint after," Robbie said.

"Oh, I see," James said. He paused, then shook his head. "It's different this time."

"Different how?" Robbie asked warily.

"Ordinarily I fight the ghosts," James said. David was almost through withdrawing now, but it didn't feel like the usual unpleasant process. "I let this one in."

Robbie nodded. "You told me once that's how it used to be when you were younger."

"It is," James said. "It was." The last little bit of David left him, and he still felt…all right. He wasn't tired and he didn't think he would lose consciousness. Well…this was novel.

"It's you now, James, isn't it?" Robbie asked, looking anxious.

James nodded. "It's me, Robbie."

Robbie exhaled softly in relief.

"Did you think I wouldn't come back?"

Robbie shook his head. "I didn't know what it would be like. The only times I've seen you do it, I didn't know what was happening."

James rested a hand on Robbie's arm. "I'm all right." He hesitated, then said what he was thinking before he lost his nerve. "Normally I worry too. But I didn't this time."

"Why's that then?" Robbie asked.

"Because I knew you wouldn't let anything happen."

Robbie's expression softened. "Yeah?"

James nodded.

"So you're not going to faint?" Robbie asked carefully.

"I'm not," James said.

"Good," Robbie said.

James looked at George, still playing chess on his own. "He loved George very much, David."

"Yeah, I could tell from the snogging," Robbie said.

James flushed. "There was snogging?"

Robbie raised his eyebrows. "You don't remember?"

"Not very well, no," James said. "I think it's because…any new memories created during that time don't really belong to me."

Robbie pulled a face. "Don't know that I understand that, but it makes as much sense as anything else."

"It's just a guess," James said. He blushed again, wondering how he could kiss someone without remembering it. "Did I kiss you?"

Robbie frowned at him. "Eh?"

"When Val came back," James said, sorry he'd mentioned it but determined to see it through now he had. "Did I kiss you then?"

"No," Robbie said. "Though now I'm a bit sorry I didn't think of it."

James could feel his face heat, and he knew the exact moment Robbie realised what he'd said and what it sounded like.

"Oh!" Robbie said, sounding just as embarrassed as James felt. "Oh, no, I…I don't mean…"

"It's all right," James said hurriedly. "You don't have to…"

"I mean I'd never want to take advantage," Robbie said. "It's your body. You should get to decide who kisses you."

James nodded. "I worry about that sometimes. When it's happening, I want what the ghost wants, but afterward…" He shook his head. "But you saw what happened today. I kissed someone and can't remember it. What else can't I remember?"

Robbie gave him a sympathetic look but didn't answer. He didn't know, of course, so the only thing he could give was support. But that was what James wanted most, so…it worked out in the end.

"No, well," James said. "That's why I usually fight the ghosts."

Robbie nodded. "I'd do the same."

"You probably wouldn't need to," James said. "You'd have worked out a schedule. No ghosts between the hours of eight and four, with designated haunting hours."

Robbie laughed. "You wouldn't think I'm that organised if you'd seen my flat."

"You wouldn't think I was so disorganised having seen mine," James said.

"I've had teenagers," Robbie said. "I know there can be a connection between mental and physical clutter, but there doesn't have to be."

James smiled at that. "True." He sighed. "Some days it feels like being behind glass."

Robbie looked at him. "What does?"

"People only come back as ghosts to be with people they care about," James said. "I don't begrudge anyone a reunion with someone he loves, but…"

"But it sets you apart," Robbie said.

James nodded. "It always has. Nobody would put up with me dashing about after ghosts."

"I do," Robbie said.

James smiled slightly. "You do."

"So will someone else," Robbie said. "Just because you don't have something now, James, doesn't mean you'll never have it."

"It just feels like it," James said.

Robbie nodded, his eyes sad. "It does." 

James winced. Trust him to remind Robbie of what he'd lost. "Sorry."

"No, no," Robbie said. He sighed. "I wish you'd known me before this happened, James. I used to be fun."

"I didn't," James said.

That surprised Robbie, and he laughed. "Yeah, but once I would've made up for that."

James shook his head. "You don't have to make up for anything, and you don't have to entertain me. However you are is all right."

Robbie nodded. "Thanks. You too."

James would never tell Robbie this, but he'd never felt as though he'd wanted to be someone else when he was with Robbie (though of course, sometimes he'd wanted _not_ to be someone else). That was rare for him.

"Thank you," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

James's mobile rang at six-thirty. He knew who it had to be. "Robbie?"

"Hello, James." Robbie sounded unsteady, but it wasn't the sort of unsteadiness being drunk might cause. It felt more emotion-driven than that. "Can I be very impolite and invite myself to visit you tonight?"

"Of course you can," James said. He paused, trying to think of the best way to ask the question coalescing in his mind. "Do you want me to come get you?" Want, not need. One had to phrase these things so it wouldn't be an injury to someone's pride to accept.

"I do," Robbie said quietly, "but I'll manage."

James stole a glance at the frying pan on the stove. Good thing he always made enough for leftovers. "It's no trouble if you want me to…"

A heavy sigh from Robbie. "No, no. I promise I wouldn't drive if it wasn't safe. I could do with the company, that's all."

James nodded. "I'll see you soon."

"Right."

The fish had just finished frying in the pan when Robbie knocked. James let him in with a smile.

"Smells good," Robbie said appreciatively.

"Good, because I made enough for both of us," James said, glancing at Robbie. He looked awful…pale and tired, with shadows beneath his eyes. It must've been a bad day. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't know," Robbie said with a weary shrug.

"Sit down, please," James said. "I just need to prepare the plates. Do you want something to drink? Beer, milk, tonic water?"

Robbie shook his head. "I don't…"

He didn't know that either? There was something on his mind, then--had to be. James poured a glass of tonic water and set it before Robbie before turning his attention back to the steamed veg.

"Ta," Robbie said, sipping his drink mechanically without seeming to register the taste of it.

"How was your day?" James asked. No leading questions…James had learnt Robbie would talk about things only when he was ready.

Robbie stared into space. "They won't let me go back to work."

James frowned. "I thought you were working."

Robbie snorted. "I wouldn't call it real work. Light duties is mainly paper-pushing. Filing. In essence, I'm a secretary."

"And you don't care for that?" James said. 

"I don't know."

James nodded.

Robbie sighed. "They said they had concerns about my mental stability."

James looked at Robbie in surprise. "Why?"

Robbie met James's eyes, then looked away. "I was passing this room when I looked in and saw…well, usually when we're investigating a crime, we pin up pictures of the victim and the suspects and write all the known facts on a whiteboard."

James nodded.

"The victim was young. A single mum. And it felt like all the breath went out of me, thinking of her being gone, her bairn left alone. I couldn't move. I couldn't stop looking at the picture of her." He shook his head, shoulders slumping. "Someone finally called my name, snapped me out of it. But I'd been standing there half an hour. Crying."

"I'm not a police officer," James said, "but I think it's probably good to be sorry when someone dies, isn't it?"

Robbie sighed. " 'What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her?' "

James blinked in surprise. "Hamlet."

Robbie smiled thinly. "Don't look so surprised. I may not work in a book shop or have a posh accent, but I've got me own ways of learning things."

James's cheeks burned, and he turned back to the fish, transferring it to two separate plates. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"No, I'm sorry," Robbie said, voice quiet and contrite. "I never used to be so thin-skinned." He exhaled slowly. "I never used to be a lot of things."

James nodded, suspecting there was more Robbie wanted to say, if given the chance.

"I don't have a reference point any more," Robbie said. "If I was being unkind or if…I could always talk about it with her and know. She made me more certain of who I was." He shook his head. "I don't know who I am without her. She took the best bits of me with her, and I don't know what's left."

James set Robbie's portion of fish and steamed veg before him, then sat at his own place at the table. He didn't know how to address Robbie's sadness; he wanted to help, but he didn't want to give Robbie some of the mindless tripe that passed for consolatory words, and he knew he couldn't pretend to know what it was like to lose a spouse.

"I suppose I'm not very mentally stable if I can say things like that," Robbie said. "I suppose the truth is I don't know how to be alone."

James shrugged. "There's no hidden guidebook to it, I don't think. I don't belong to a club where I go home and do the Lonely Bloke handshake with my reflection in the mirror."

Robbie laughed almost in spite of himself. "That's why I wanted to be here tonight." He reached out and covered James's hand with his own, but his expression shifted from appreciation to grief in a moment. He made a sound that was half-hiccup, half-whimper as his fingers curled around James's…seeking warmth, James thought, or maybe reassurance that he wasn't alone now, wasn't on his own.

"Robbie," James said tentatively, "would it be all right if I hugged you?"

Robbie's breath hitched and he nodded. James moved his chair so it was right beside Robbie's, and then he embraced Robbie gently.

Robbie made a soft sound, turning to James and curling up against him as though the bodily contact were life-sustaining. James realised that Robbie had, after being solitary for so long, been completely overwhelmed by what James had thought was a simple touch. Robbie's reaction seemed to take him by surprise as it had taken James by surprise.

"I'm sorry," Robbie whispered, sounding bewildered. "I…I don't know why I…"

"It's all right," James said. "You don't have to have a reason as far as I'm concerned."

Robbie nodded, hiding his face against James's shoulder so his voice came out muffled. "Right."

James didn't know what else to say, but touch would speak for him. It was less fraught than words anyway.

So he sat silently and held his friend.

When Robbie finally pulled back, his face was mottled red from crying. He rested a hand on James's shoulder, still clearly overwhelmed but trying to pull himself together. "I…hope that was all right."

James rested a hand of his own on Robbie's upper back. "It was fine. Don't worry about it."

"Only…sometimes I need to know I'm not…drifting away from the world into space somewhere." Robbie sniffled softly.

"You can hug me as often as you like," James said firmly.

Robbie gave him a grateful look. "You don't mind?"

James shook his head. "I don't mind at all." He hesitated, then offered quietly, "I probably like them just as much as you do."

Robbie's eyes softened, and he nodded. Then, patting James's shoulder, he turned his attention to the dish before him. "Sorry…I've probably let your dinner get cold."

"It's better cold," James said lightly.

Robbie laughed, a laugh with tears at its edge, and he and James both turned their attention to the matter of supper.

No verbal thanks were given, but James understood the nonverbal well enough.


	6. Chapter 6

They were stretched out side by side on the sofa watching telly, and Robbie was asleep. James suspected, from little things Robbie had said, that this was the place he fell asleep most easily. Of course, Robbie would never admit to having fallen asleep--"Fall asleep as a guest in someone's house? I hope I've got better manners than that!"--but they both knew it had happened, and James suspected neither one of them truly minded. He certainly didn't mind.

Tonight, Robbie had tipped to one side in his sleep, so that he was leaning against James, head resting on James's shoulder. It made James happy in some way he couldn't name that Robbie trusted him enough to fall asleep beside him. It was one of the things that reminded James that they really were as close as James would have liked to think they were.

Robbie shifted his weight slightly, turning to face James a bit and stretching his right arm across James's stomach in a sleepy embrace. James moved so he could drape his own arm around Robbie's shoulders. _My friend. My best friend._

Robbie began snoring after a few minutes, and continued until he snored so loudly that he woke himself up. He blinked, uncertain what had just happened and why he was no longer asleep.

"James?" Robbie asked drowsily.

"It's all right," James said. "You can go back to sleep."

"Hmm," Robbie sighed, lowering his head to rest against James's shoulder again, arm still stretched across James's torso.

James found he couldn't seem to stop smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

James had known something was wrong as the Christmas season had approached. But as November ended and Robbie had withdrawn more deeply into himself than ever, James had finally dared to ask what was wrong.

Robbie had sighed and remained silent for a long time. "It'll be a year soon."

James didn't have to ask what anniversary Robbie meant. "I'm sorry."

Robbie nodded. "So am I." He paused. "I want to visit…" His voice hitched and he had to stop speaking a moment, but then he made himself go on. "I haven't been to her grave since the funeral. I want to pay my respects."

James nodded.

Robbie had given him a painfully hopeful look. "I don't suppose you could come with me?"

James flinched instinctively at the idea, then gave Robbie a guilty look when he saw the hurt on the other man's face. "I'm sorry. I wish I could. But…cemeteries…"

Understanding had come into Robbie's eyes. "Ghosts?"

"Loads of them," James had confirmed. "I can drive you if you like, but I'll have to stay in the car."

Robbie nodded. "That'll do."

But it wasn't what Robbie had wanted. Robbie had wanted help…support…someone to stay beside him as he did the thing that would be hardest for him to do.

James didn't know how he was going to manage it. But he would have to find a way.

***  
James was waiting in his car outside Robbie's house when Robbie finally emerged, soberly dressed and with a bouquet in his hands. Once again, James felt the pang of missed opportunities, of the chance for love having passed him by. There had been a chance, once…but, after all, that had been a long time ago.

As James pulled into traffic, he said casually, "I thought you might have a nicer car than that."

But Robbie didn't take the hint. "Eh?"

"Never mind," James said, lapsing into silence for the rest of the ride.

When they arrived at the cemetery, however, James parked and then casually stepped out of the car, giving Robbie an irritable look when Robbie stared at him. "What?"

"I thought you said you couldn't…" 

"Circumstances have changed, Lewis," James said brusquely. "Are we doing this or are we not?"

"Yeah, all right, there's no need to be tetchy about it," Robbie grumbled, getting out of the car. Then he froze.

James held back a smile. So he'd finally noticed, had he? "What is it?"

"You called me Lewis," Robbie said.

James gave him an inquisitive look. "And?"

"You never call me that," Robbie said. "I'm not even sure you know my last name. I've always been Robbie to you."

Ah, he'd missed this, leading Robbie along until he finally reached the correct answer. "Which means?"

Robbie looked at him intently for a moment, then shook his head. "You can't be!"

" _Ah,_ " James said nonchalantly, " _m'ha scordata?_ "

"Madame Butterfly," Robbie said hoarsely. "That's Madame Butterfly."

"Very good, Lewis!" James said approvingly. "You did listen to those albums I left you."

Robbie's eyes widened and his mouth worked for a moment before he was able to whisper, "Sir?"

James beamed at him beneficently, nodding.

Robbie was still staring at him, openmouthed. "You stayed…for me?"

James snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. No, I've been investigating the afterlife. Fascinating work, Lewis. I've spoken with many other ghosts and have learnt a great deal."

"Such as?" Robbie asked.

Ordinarily, James wouldn't care how he presented the facts; facts were what they were. But he had some reason to care about his sergeant's feelings…perhaps more than he would care about anyone else's.

"Your wife," James said carefully. "You expected to speak with her again, didn't you?"

Robbie's face flushed, and he lowered his eyes. "She said she was there with me. But I thought..."

James said, as kindly as he could, "The rules prevent it. The only reason she could come to you a second time is that you didn't know she was there during the first. That's why she ended your conversation with such finality. She knew she couldn't come back."

"But why didn't she tell me?" Robbie asked, protest easy to hear in his voice.

"If you were in her position, what would you have told her?" James asked. "That you loved her very much, but that you would never see her again? Or something more comforting…that you would always be with her?"

Robbie nodded, understanding now what James was getting at. "Can you see her?"

"Well, not now," James said brusquely. "And even if I were free of this body, I don't imagine she'd have anything to say to me." He paused. "Ghosts wait for their loved ones, Robbie. That's what they do. Your wife was a kind, loyal woman. She'll wait for you."

Robbie looked at the ground so James wouldn't see his upset. James pretended (rather convincingly, he thought) that he hadn't seen it.

"Thank you, sir," Robbie whispered. Then he looked at James, startled. "So…is this the last time we'll…?"

"No," James said. "At least, I don't think so. Not being bound to you by love as your wife is, I expect I'll be able to return should you need me."

Robbie shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. People you love can only come back once but people you don't can come back often as they like?"

"Think, Lewis," James said. "Think what it would mean if no one we loved were ever truly dead. Houses would be filled with ghosts. We would become ghosts ourselves, living with the shadows of people we'd lost rather than with those still living. "

"Would that be so bad?" Robbie asked.

"Bad or not, it's not the way things are. People who are still here need us, sometimes in ways we can't predict or expect. And it's important that we find them."

Robbie nodded reluctantly. Then he gave James a curious look. "How are you here exactly?"

"Ah," James said. "James did want to be here with you, but he was afraid what might happen. I offered my services. If he's already carrying a ghost, no other ghost can speak to him or reach him."

"You're protecting him," Robbie said.

James favoured Robbie with a vaguely disgruntled expression. He didn't particularly enjoy being made into a straightforward hero. Robbie had tended to idealise him sometimes, even when he was the last person who should've been idealised. Sometimes he thought Robbie didn't remember him, not really…he'd smoothed off all the hard edges in his memory, had whittled him down to some twinkly-eyed deductive genius. James supposed that was what memory was for, but he found it difficult to stomach sometimes.

"I'm allowing him to do what he would've done anyway to significantly lesser effect," James snapped. "Are we going to stand here talking all day?"

"No," Robbie said, looking a bit taken aback.

James walked a few paces behind Robbie…close enough to offer assistance should Robbie need it, but far enough that Robbie didn't feel as though he were being crowded. He stood at a respectful distance as Robbie discarded the old dried flowers and placed his new flowers before his wife's grave. James tried not to listen to what Robbie said, but the wind carried Robbie's words to him.

"Hello, bonny lass," Robbie said quietly. "I miss you. You said you're always with me, so I know you are…but sometimes you feel very far away." He touched one of the flowers. "I hope you like the flowers. I hope you can see them." For a moment, he looked as though he were about to say more…but then he shook his head, rising slowly to his feet. He walked as though a weight were on his shoulders now; he was certainly not the man James had known as Sergeant Lewis not so long ago.

"We can go now," Robbie told James solemnly.

As James pulled back into traffic, he said, "If only to satisfy my curiosity, what did you do with my Jag?"

"Sold it," Robbie said.

"You what?" James said indignantly. "You sold it? Didn't you recognise the value of…"

"Of course I haven't sold it," Robbie said, amused. "But I feel a bit…pretentious driving it. So I keep it safe in storage with a friend of mine who loves it almost as much as you do."

"Sold it," James grumbled. "Of all the bloody cheek."

When he parked in front of Robbie's house, James huffed out a breath. "I think I'll let James be the one to go in with you. Unless of course you'd fancy a pint."

Robbie snorted with laughter. "With all due respect, sir, we know who'd end up paying for that."

"Yes," James said a bit wistfully. He shook himself. "Ah, well. Perhaps we'll meet again."

"Same time next year?" Robbie asked.

James was surprised by the suggestion. He'd have thought an hour or two of his company would be enough to remind Robbie why he'd been considered prickly and unpleasant by most. Then again, Robbie had never been most…and he'd never seemed to mind. 

"Yes," James said slowly, trying not to sound too eager. "I suppose I could manage that."

Robbie smiled at him. "Thank you for coming, sir."

James gave Robbie a brisk nod, and then Morse slipped away from James so suddenly that it made James dizzy. "Oh…"

Robbie was immediately touching James's arm. "James? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," James said, blinking away some of the dizziness. "I've never had a ghost leave so quickly." He gave Robbie a slight smile. "It does your head in a bit."

Robbie returned the slight smile. "Thank you for what you did today."

James shrugged.

"Come on," Robbie said, tapping James's shoulder. "Let's trade seats, and I'll drive you home and make you tea."

That, in James's opinion, sounded perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

It was seven o'clock, James had eaten supper, and he was bored.

James had activities in which he could've engaged. He could've read, or watched telly, or done any of the usual things he did most nights. But what had once been habits had calcified into routines that repeated the same things _ad infinitum_. Sometimes that wasn't a bad thing; there were days when the usual routine was still a solace and worked for him. Other days, however, the routine left him feeling hollow and dissatisfied.

His eyes roamed the length of one of the many bookshelves in his flat, as though the perfect book would resolve his feelings of discontent. Working in a book shop had been brilliant for James because he knew everything that came in and out of the shop, and could collect books the way other people seemed to collect stamps or paintings or acquaintances with whom they could share pictures of their holidays. 

Books had been James's friends for a long time; when he had felt lonely, he could summon companions from ten years ago, or a hundred, or a thousand. He couldn't control the ghosts, but he could control the books he read. They gave him a feeling of agency, and sometimes of cameraderie with characters he liked. He'd considered being a writer once, but his attempts at telling stories had failed. The old saw, true or untrue, was to write what you knew, and outside the realm of books, James had to admit he didn't know very much. Not about people…not about what it was like to be a person out in the world. His experiences were mostly secondhand.

He found himself dialing Robbie's number.

"Hello?" It was Robbie, sounding a bit breathless.

"Sorry…are you busy?"

"No. It always takes me too bloody long to remember where I've put my phone, and by the time I do the call's usually gone to voicemail."

James smiled slightly at the mental image of Robbie searching his living room for his phone. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Got a four-hour shift of staring at the ceiling planned, but I can reschedule if you've got something better."

James chuckled. "I can't promise sparkling or witty conversation, but would you like to come round?"

"I would," Robbie said. "And I wouldn't know what to do with sparkling, witty conversation if I had it."

James knew he'd made the right decision. Robbie was quite possibly one of the easiest people in the world to be with, although he may not have seen himself that way.

"Will you want dinner?" James asked.

"No, I've eaten."

"What have you eaten?" James asked knowingly.

Robbie sighed. "Egg and cheese butty and a Mars bar."

"No vegetables?"

"Why do I feel like you're lying in wait with a salad?"

"Maybe because I am." James readied himself for either teasing or goodnatured scolding, but he didn't get either.

"Thanks," Robbie said, his voice slightly unsteady. "It's nice knowing…you know. It matters to someone."

"You're welcome," James said.

He could almost hear Robbie give himself a shake. "Anyway. Be there soon."

"See you then."

***

They were sitting on the sofa, Robbie having been plied appropriately with salad, when Robbie said, "You should get one of those things."

James nodded. "Sounds good. I love things."

"Smartarse." Robbie sounded amused. "You know, a sofa with reclining seats. Then you could stretch out those long legs of yours."

"They're not that much longer than everyone else's," James said.

"You're tall, though."

James nodded. "I have it on good authority that I have a long torso."

"Not me," Robbie said. "Short and stubby all over."

James gave him a quizzical look. "That's not true."

Robbie shrugged.

"No, it isn't," James said, feeling rather indignant on Robbie's behalf. "Who told you that?"

Robbie shrugged. "Was called that at school sometimes."

"Well, that explains it," James said. "You must've been shorter then. It's certainly not true now."

Robbie gave James a bemused look. "Why do you care?"

James shrugged. "I just don't like you believing negative things of yourself. That's all."

Robbie didn't say anything, but he patted James's hand in silent thanks before he moved his own hand away.

After a moment's silence, Robbie spoke. "Probably would've called you tonight if you hadn't called me."

James glanced at him. "Would you?"

Robbie nodded. "That house…sometimes it feels like it's going to collapse on me." He shook his head. "I dunno how much longer I can stay there."

James nodded. He had no opinion about that; the decision to stay or go would be entirely Robbie's to make.

"Morse said something last December about living in a house full of ghosts," Robbie said. "He was right. And I can't get away from it anywhere. There are ghosts at home, and then I go to work and spend all day with the dead. I'm cold all the time and this is the only thing that takes the chill away."

James wasn't sure he followed. "What is?"

"Being here like this." Robbie paused. "I won't ask to move in with you…"

James felt a sudden surprising joy at the idea. "You can if you like!"

"No," Robbie said. "I've got my own ways of doing things, and old as I am, I don't know that I have much bend to me any more. But I do think, if you don't mind, that I'd like to have you nearby."

James hadn't smiled this broadly in ages. It almost made his face hurt. "I don't mind."

"If we were neighbours," Robbie said, "you could come round when you felt like it, and I could come round when I felt like it, and we'd each have our own spaces for when we need to be on our own."

James loved this plan. "The flat next door is empty right now. I could talk to the landlord if you like."

"Would you?" Robbie looked relieved that James was taking his suggestion so well.

"Of course," James said. He hoped the landlord had remained free of ghosts in the time James had lived here. He didn't want to go in for a professional chat and end up channeling the landlord's mum. On second thought, maybe a quick, friendly email would be easier.

Robbie's eyes shadowed with grief. "I thought we'd be in that house forever. But it's so empty now."

James touched Robbie's hand gently, and Robbie nodded his thanks.

"Still don't know what to do about work," Robbie admitted. "I've only ever been a copper…but it doesn't feel right. Not like it used to."

"You have time to decide," James said.

Robbie gave James a lopsided smile. "No point changing my whole life at once, eh?"

James shrugged.

"Well," Robbie said, "the move's enough to think about for now. I like the idea of being closer to you, in case you need me."

 _In case you need me._ The amount of caring Robbie packed into those five words made James feel…well…cared for. He'd always told himself he didn't need people, but that wasn't true. He did need people. Well, maybe not people…maybe person.

"Same here," James said. "We can get into all sorts of trouble together."

"Well, maybe not all sorts," Robbie said wryly. "For the time being, I'm still a policeman."

"Maybe just liquorice then," James said.

Robbie frowned at him.

"Allsorts?"

Robbie shook his head. "No wonder you and Morse get on."

"Did he like liquorice?"

"No, but he liked talking in riddles. Or crosswords."

"You have to find some way to pass the time," James said.

Robbie smiled, looking at James. "Think I have."

James smiled back in turn.


	9. Chapter 9

Though he hadn't wanted to, Robbie had hired movers, and James had volunteered to help unload the van.

James opened the door to his flat and had taken a few steps toward the van when the tingling feeling hit between his shoulder blades, and it was strong--not only did someone out here have a ghost, there was more than one waiting to speak.

James raced back into his flat, slamming and locking the door, leaning against it as though the ghosts might suddenly become corporeal and force their way in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he didn't know if he was apologising to the ghosts or to Robbie.

He waited there, sucking in one terrified breath after another until the tingling sensation eased and then abated entirely. As he'd escaped without any ghosts speaking to him, he didn't have to worry about losing consciousness.

James didn't dare leave the flat again.

As afternoon began to darken into evening, someone knocked on James's door. James checked the peephole; it was Robbie.

James let him in. "Have they gone?"

Robbie nodded.

James felt a fresh wave of guilt. "I'm sorry. I was going to help you…"

"It's all right, James," Robbie said gently. "I saw you hurry back inside, and I knew why you had."

James nodded, eyes downcast, ashamed that he couldn't do something as bloody simple as carrying a few boxes for a friend.

"James." Robbie's hand rested on James's shoulder. "Is there something else? Did something happen?"

"Yes, something happened. I can't bloody function. That's what happened," James snapped.

"I knew it was a risk," Robbie said, "hiring movers. But I've got some furniture I can't carry on my own." He squeezed James's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should've found another way."

"What?" James stared at Robbie. "No, it--of course you hired movers. That was the sensible thing to do."

"But you know I try not to do anything that puts you in reach of ghosts," Robbie said.

James shook his head. "I know you do your best, but there's no way I can avoid ghosts entirely. Nobody knows that better than I do." He sighed. "I am sorry, though. I wanted to help you."

"You still can," Robbie said. "I've got boxes need unpacking, and I'm only one man. Why not give us a hand?"

James lifted his gaze. "You don't mind? That I couldn't before?"

"Mind? Bloody hell, James, that'd be like minding that a diabetic can't eat a doughnut!" 

James hadn't thought about it that way. "I'd like to help you unpack, if you'll tell me where everything goes."

Robbie grinned. "Don't worry. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's supervising."

"Excellent," James said.

As they entered Robbie's flat, Robbie asked, "Will it offend your sensibilities if I order pizza for us?"

"Of course not. I love pizza," James said. He surveyed the tidy but short stacks of boxes. "Is this everything?"

Robbie nodded. "I only brought my things, and of that, only what I actually use. I'll take the rest to a jumble sale or a charity shop." His mouth trembled minutely. "I couldn't get rid of her things."

"No," James said, resting a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Of course not."

Robbie sniffed, straightening his shoulders. "Right. Let's get on with it."

Four hours and one and a half pizzas later, James's eyes were starting to cross with fatigue and Robbie had nearly tucked his new toilet brush beneath the sofa cushions before he'd realised what he was doing.

"I think," Robbie said, "this might be a sign we should stop for the night."

James nodded, standing and trying to work the tension out of his back and shoulders. Tall as he was, bending over things for extended periods of time hurt.

Robbie tried to step over a box and tripped, catching himself with one hand on James and one hand on the back of a kitchen chair. "Whoops."

James took a good look at Robbie as he helped Robbie steady himself. "You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Few hours," Robbie said. "Too much to think about." 

He yawned a long yawn, and James watched carefully to make sure Robbie was still steady on his feet. Robbie rested both his hands on the back of the chair. 

"I feel guilty," he said quietly. "As though I'm walking out on her. Walking out on us." He shook his head. "I thought this was the right thing, moving here, but I don't know if I can do it."

"If you can't, we'll pack everything and move you back," James said. He'd be disappointed if Robbie decided to leave, but he'd understand, of course.

Robbie nodded. "It's been yonks since I moved somewhere new without her." His eyes filled and he lowered his head. "I can't understand why you like being around me. All I ever do is cry."

James rested a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Believe me, if there's one thing ghosts have taught me to understand, it's grief."

Robbie didn't say anything, but he turned and hugged James so fiercely that it almost knocked the breath out of him. James lifted his arms and hugged his friend in return.

"Please don't leave," Robbie whispered. "Please stay."

James wondered what it would be like to be so used to someone's constant presence that being alone was painful. He hugged Robbie more tightly. "I will."

Robbie was trying very hard to sound as though he wasn't crying, which meant he was making lots of odd sniffly noises and taking the odd shaky breath, which James of course knew meant he was crying anyway. James knew Robbie might feel embarrassed about this either now or later, but it didn't embarrass James. At least with Robbie, James could be here, helping as himself instead of having to be whoever the grieving person had lost.

Robbie pulled back, blushing. "I've dripped all over your shirt."

"It's washable," James said lightly.

Robbie nodded, keeping a tight grip on James. "I hope you know…" He trailed off, becoming uncertain of his words.

But James suspected he knew what might have come next-- _I hope you know how much you've helped me._

"I know," James said.

Robbie gave James a teary-eyed smile. "Good. That's good." He took a deep breath, held it, and released it. "I'll let go of you in a minute. I promise."

"Take your time," James said. "I've got all night."

Robbie made a helpless little sound and leaned against James, arms tucked in close to his body this time.

James held him close.


	10. Chapter 10

James woke early the next morning, slipping back to his own flat long enough to procure the ingredients for a coffee cake. The cake was in the oven by the time Robbie emerged from his bedroom.

"Morning," yawned Robbie.

"Didn't mean to wake you," James said.

"I'm not awake, but my nose is," Robbie said. "What are you making?"

"Coffee cake," James said.

"What, no yoghurt parfaits? You're slipping, James," Robbie said with a grin. He clicked on the CD player he and James had hooked up last night, and a gentle guitar arpeggio began.

James paused, trying to place the song. "Dire Straits?"

Robbie nodded, sitting at the table. " 'Romeo and Juliet.' Mark Knopfler's from the North, same as me."

"I wondered," James said, "but I couldn't be sure. You could sound like you were from Newcastle and have lived in Oxford all your life."

Robbie snorted. "Pretty sure if I'd lived in Oxford all my life, I'd sound like one of those dons."

James laughed. "Something tells me you'd hate that."

"Dunno. Might make things easier sometimes. People would assume different things about me if I sounded different." Robbie fell silent, listening to the music for a while. "You play guitar, don't you? You could probably play this."

James nodded.

"I'll have to ask you to bring it sometime so we can have a singsong," Robbie said with a grin.

James gave Robbie a questioning look; had he decided to stay here?

Robbie nodded. "I want to try it, at least. It'll be difficult…but what isn't, eh?"

James gave Robbie a sympathetic nod as he removed the coffee cake from the oven.

"If you cook like this all the time, I might have to give up my egg and chips," Robbie said, looking rather covetously at the hot coffee cake.

"I'd consider that a positive step," James said, cutting Robbie a slice of cake and then cutting himself one.

"At this point, so would I," Robbie said, taking a big bite of coffee cake and then closing his eyes in bliss as he chewed. "Mm."

James smiled. "I don't think anyone appreciates my cooking as much as you do. Even I don't."

Robbie chuckled, swallowing his mouthful of cake. "Eat my cooking for a day or two. You'll appreciate yours a lot more."

James smiled. "You're always welcome to have supper with me, if you're not working."

"Light duties, remember? I've got a regular daily shift now, God help me," Robbie grumbled.

"In that case, come by any time."

"I should call and let you know first, surely."

James shook his head. "That's not necessary."

"Oh," Robbie said, looking warmed by the thought. "Thank you."

James shrugged with one shoulder, feeling a bit shy. He didn't always know how to navigate this friendship business, but cooking for Robbie seemed like an easy enough way to help him…and as Robbie seemed to like the idea, James could safely assume he hadn't misstepped.

"Sometimes," Robbie said hesitantly, "I feel like I'm taking more from you than I'm giving back. And…I don't want that to be true. So if there's something I can do that would help you, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

James didn't know if he would. It depended how personal a thing it was. If it were only a question of James being lonely and in need of company, yes, he'd ask for that. But other things…well, James didn't know.

"I'd try to," James said. He'd tried, since the day he'd met Robbie, to tell him the truth…not an easy task for as consummate a liar as James was. He'd spent more than half his life trying to disguise or hide his ability to speak to ghosts, telling careful lies. _I have a headache. It's just low blood sugar; I'm sorry I worried you. It's nothing. Really, it's nothing._ "But you shouldn't feel as though it's been uneven. It hasn't been, I promise."

Robbie smiled. "I'm glad. I like to pull my weight, me." He resumed eating his breakfast.

"Did you sleep all right?" James asked.

Robbie nodded. "I wanted a drink pretty badly before I went, but I managed to restrain myself. And I slept better than the nights I do drink. Which the therapist said would happen, but he didn't get anything else right, so how could I know he was right about that?"

James nodded. "Bad experience, then?"

"I didn't want to go. Part of the job, though. They have you evaluated." He stared at his cake. "He asked me if I felt guilty. That it was my fault she'd died."

James didn't know much about therapy, but that sounded suspiciously like a leading question. He grimaced sympathetically.

"The terrible thing was, I hadn't," Robbie said. "Not until he asked me that. And then I thought, of course it was my fault. She was buying Christmas presents for me in London. How could it be anything but my fault?" He shook his head. "Once I'd thought it, I couldn't unthink it. Couldn't get it out of my mind."

James winced. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. I went in hoping he'd be able to help me. I wanted to be helped." Robbie shook his head as if to ward off the unpleasant thoughts, giving James what was meant to be a smile as he tried to change the subject. "Ever considered being a therapist?"

James shuddered. "No. Never."

"Too bad," Robbie said. "You might be good."

"Or I might channel someone's father and wake up with a black eye again," James said.

Robbie looked alarmed. "Again?"

"It happened once at school," James said. "I woke up in the infirmary with my eye swollen shut. Apparently the prefect didn't think much of my particular gift."

"Kids are cruel," Robbie said.

James had to hide a smile. He could see what Robbie was doing--remaining neutral and making a statement that indicated he'd be willing to listen if James wanted to extemporise on the topic.

"School's meant to be a misery," James said. "That's what it's for, so you can be appropriately disillusioned if you begin life thinking the world is a nice place."

Robbie blinked at him. "Bloody hell, where did you go to school?"

"Oh, one of the best," James said, trying and failing to keep the acid from his tone. He sighed. "If it hadn't been for the ghosts, I think I could've learned to keep my head down and stay out of the way."

"But?"

"But when you're constantly claiming to be someone else and then fainting, you tend to garner a fair amount of attention whether you want it or not. The only reason I wasn't expelled is that the headmaster's sister spoke through me in one of my meetings with him. And, unlike my peers, the headmaster believed in what I could do." James sighed. "I suppose I'm lucky he didn't tout me as the next big thing to the BBC."

Robbie looked vaguely ashamed. "I'd no idea, James."

James frowned at him. "How could you have? It's not as though you were there."

"No," Robbie said, "but…" He drummed his fingers on the table. "I made some…assumptions about you."

James smirked. "University education somewhere posh?"

Robbie, looking even more ashamed now, nodded.

"That's what everyone thinks," James said with a shrug. "And I let them most of the time." He paused, knowing he was running the risk of sounding self-pitying. "I think I would've liked university, if I could've found some way round the people involved."

Robbie nodded. "You're clever enough."

James shrugged; best not to unearth that particular pile of regrets. "Libraries were easier. I could read on my own…find some secluded corner where no one else would happen upon me, or take the books home."

"And I did what everybody else did," Robbie said, still castigating himself.

"No," James said. "You saw what I was first and what you assumed about me second. That's unusual."

Robbie nodded. He didn't look entirely convinced, but at least he looked less unhappy than he had looked a moment before. There was silence between them, but it was comfortable rather than awkward.

"Well," Robbie said, "I need to spruce myself up a bit before we start unpacking again. Why don't you do the same, and we'll meet back here in twenty minutes?"

James nodded.

"And James? Thanks," Robbie said.

Robbie could've been thanking James for the coffee cake, but James didn't think that was all there was to it. Robbie was thanking him for listening, and for sharing something of himself as well. James was a bit surprised he'd told Robbie about his school days; that was the sort of thing he usually didn't let himself think about, let alone share with someone else.

But Robbie, in this situation as in so many others, was safe. And James would never take that for granted.


	11. Chapter 11

The ghost slipped into control of James so quickly that by the time he felt the usual tingling, he was already half-submerged. James stopped walking, blinking at the sight of the carnival in front of him. So many colours. So pretty.

"Fair," James said, turning to his grown-up friend, who seemed to be going the wrong way.

"I know," Robbie said. "Don't worry. We'll go the other way."

James shook his head, hurrying to Robbie's side and plucking urgently at his sleeve. "Robbie. Robbie. _Fair._ "

Robbie frowned at James for a moment. James took Robbie's hand so it would be safe when they crossed the street.

"Please?" James asked, the l in the word coming out as a w.

Robbie's expression softened as he seemed to understand something, and he nodded. "All right. Let's have a look."

James clutched Robbie's hand and bounced up and down in excitement as they approached the carnival. It was beautiful--so many people and it smelled like chips and he could see people passing with candy floss and it was different colours and how did they _do_ that?

"You're to keep hold of my hand," Robbie said firmly. "I don't want you wandering off."

James nodded eagerly, looking round. There were booths with prizes, and at the sight of one of the prizes, he gasped softly.

"What is it? Are you all right?" Robbie sounded worried.

James nodded and pointed. "Bear!"

In one of the booths was a big, bright orange bear. It was the most beautiful thing James had ever seen.

Robbie gave him a warm smile. "You like that, do you?"

James nodded so hard it made his neck hurt.

"Come on, then," Robbie said. "Let's see if we can win it."

The game involved throwing a ball through a board with holes in. When James tried, he bounced the ball off the board, but Robbie was better at the game, and he did get the ball through. Though he didn't win the big bear for James, he won a smaller panda bear toy with very soft fur. James hugged it close, then kissed it on the nose.

"Are you going to name it?" Robbie asked as they wandered together.

James nodded, hugging it tight. "Robbie Bear." Because Robbie won it for him.

Robbie smiled. "That's a good name."

James held out the bear for Robbie to kiss.

Robbie made a show of inspecting Robbie Bear. "He's very nice."

"Kiss," James insisted, shoving the bear in Robbie's face.

"All right, all right," Robbie laughed, giving the bear a kiss. "Better?"

James nodded, hugging the bear to himself.

They went on the roundabout together; James got to sit on a giant wooden frog, and Robbie stood beside him to make sure he didn't fall. After the ride, as they walked through the fair, Robbie told him all about the different rides and games, and about the time he'd been in charge at a fair for police. James pictured a fair like this full of police in their dark uniforms and tall helmets, and wondered if the fast rides for grown-ups made their helmets fall off.

Robbie even bought James some of that colourful candy floss, which James stared at and stared at and only later remembered to eat. It was nice, but it didn't taste as magic as it looked. Robbie ate some of it too, carrying the paper cone so James didn't get sticky candy all over his bear.

Finally, Robbie said, "Come on. It's getting late," and James nodded, holding his bear by the hand on one side and Robbie's hand on the other, yomping dutifully away from the carnival with his friends.

Once they were clear of the fair, James gave Robbie a big, sloppy hug.

Robbie's arms went around him without hesitation. "Did you have a good time?"

James nodded, kissing Robbie on the cheek to say thank you.

"I had a good time too," Robbie said. Carefully, as though he were remembering something from long ago, Robbie ruffled James's hair.

James thought Robbie must be a daddy. He seemed like one. And it had been perfect today. Everything had been perfect, but James was beginning to feel a bit itchy and twitchy, which meant he had to go.

"Bye bye," he said softly, giving Robbie one last squeeze.

Nausea assailed James, and he reeled on his feet, dropping whatever he'd been holding in his right hand. The ghost had been with him…how long? Two hours? Three? Too long, at any rate. That was the trouble with child ghosts; they didn't understand the rules.

James pulled away from Robbie, managing a few wobbly steps before falling to his knees. "Fuck…"

"James." Robbie was kneeling beside him instantly.

James couldn't answer; he was too busy being sick. Robbie rubbed his shoulder gently.

"Was it the candy floss?" Robbie asked. "I couldn't ask you if you could eat it…"

James shook his head, stomach still spasming but empty. "No." He coughed, retrieving his handkerchief to wipe his mouth. "Sorry."

"You're all right. The lad was fine, but I'm glad you're back."

James frowned at Robbie. "The lad?"

"The kiddie," Robbie said. "The one I bought the candy floss for."

"Her name was Anna."

"Oh," Robbie said. "Hard to tell, you know, when they all look like you."

James nodded.

"Anna was here longer than most," Robbie said. "Is that why you…?"

James nodded again, grateful he didn't have to explain it. "I think…I think I'm all right now."

"There's no hurry," Robbie said. "We'll wait a few minutes more." He paused. "Do you remember any of it?"

James shook his head. "She's attached to the fair. It fascinates her, so she follows it everywhere. But she'd never been able to go to one until today." He didn't remember what she and Robbie had done together, but he could remember the strength of her emotions.

"Lucky she ended up with me, then," Robbie said. "Used to love taking the kids to stuff like this." He frowned. "But I thought ghosts could only be attached to people, not places."

James nodded. "Most of them are attached to people. But there are exceptions, and when a ghost isn't attached to a person, he or she is usually attached to a place. At a guess, for instance, I'd say your friend Morse is attached to Oxford." He reached out to Robbie. "Help me up?"

Robbie did, gently assisting James so he could stand. "Are you feeling weak?"

"Dizzy," James said. He was so bloody tired of all this…the fainting, the cold, the illness, all the stupid physical symptoms of a stupid bloody ability he'd never wanted in the first place.

Robbie knelt to pick something up. "Can't forget him. He's named after me."

"What?" James said, more sharply than he'd meant to.

Robbie held up the bear Anna had dropped. "Robbie Bear."

"Oh," James said. He could dimly remember holding it, but didn't know where it had come from.

Robbie tucked the bear under his arm, draping James's arm around him so James would have someone steady to lean against as he walked. "Come on. We'll get you home and get some soup in you."

"And wait another week to see the pond," James said. His anger had dulled to upset, which didn't smart any less but was devoid of some of the former's heat and cruelty. After all, they'd been here this afternoon so James could show Robbie the quiet pond where he liked to sit and write melodies in his head.

"Oh," Robbie said. "Right."

James sighed, shaking his head. "It never matters what I decide. Someone else can always come and take the choice away from me." He stumbled, leaning a bit more heavily on Robbie.

"Must be difficult," Robbie said.

"I hate it so much," James said. "I'm always second, always, and it's _my life_. When I let them in, it makes me sick; when I don't let them in, I faint and can barely move. I'm tired, Robbie. I'm so unbelievably tired of this."

Robbie nodded. "I can't say I know. Because I don't know. I've never been where you are. But I am sorry, because it seems as though what you can do is more cost than reward."

James nodded, his breath catching. Oh, please…no crying. He didn't want to cry now--not now, on top of everything else that had happened. But it seemed that was one more thing he couldn't control.

To his credit, Robbie pretended not to notice.

***

Though James would just as soon have begged off and gone to bed feeling quietly unhappy, Robbie insisted that James come to his flat first, and he made chicken soup from a can for their supper.

"I know it hasn't got bouillon cubes and tofu in it, but it'll have to do for now," Robbie said, handing a bowl and spoon to James.

"Cheers," James said, beginning to eat.

Robbie was silent a while. "Do you think…if I hadn't gone to the fair with her, would Anna have left you alone?"

"I don't know," James said. "She might've done. Or she might've sat and refused to move until you took her to the fair."

Robbie nodded. "I wish there were more I could do."

James shrugged. "I wish there were more I could do. But there isn't." He glanced at Robbie. "Anyway, you were there to help Anna. Who knows what she might've done if she'd been left unsupervised?"

Robbie blinked in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that. Have you spoken with a child ghost before when you've been on your own?"

James could feel his face burning. "I was arrested. He wanted an ice-cream and, unfortunately for me, didn't realise he had to pay for it. When they tried to take it from him or stop him running away, he hit someone." And that wasn't even going into how awful waking in the police station had been.

"I'm glad I was there to help Anna," Robbie said, "but the one I'd really like to help is you."

"You do," James said. He couldn't begin to count all the ways in which Robbie had helped him since they'd met. "It may not seem like it, but I know how it was before you, and trust me, you do."

Robbie smiled. "Good." He ate a bit from his own bowl of soup. "Is there something else? Something I'm not doing?"

James shook his head. "You handle the ghosts better than I do. That's something."

"They're just people," Robbie said. "Nicer people than I used to deal with on the job."

James nodded, toying with his spoon.

"I think," Robbie said, "the next time you're due for a holiday, we should find a place with rolling hills and lots of trees…somewhere we can go for walks without seeing anyone else…and you can have two weeks of relaxation. Read all the books you haven't got to yet, write operas…anything you want."

"It sounds wonderful," James said wistfully. Then he noticed something. "We?"

"I assume you've got more restrictions on your time," Robbie said. "I've got loads of leave time banked; I could go whenever."

"No, but…you'd come with me?"

"Of course I would!" Robbie said. "Might be of some use to you…I can go shopping and things. Deal with people so you don't have to, if you want."

James looked down to hide his face. "Thank you."

"I don't have to," Robbie said, sounding uncertain. "If you don't want me to. I just thought…"

"I'd like it if you came," James said, looking up.

Robbie smiled hesitantly. "Yeah?"

James nodded. "It'd be better with you there."

Robbie's smile widened. "Good. Then we'll do that someday."

James dearly hoped they would.


	12. Chapter 12

James was sprawled on Robbie's couch, picking out idle melodies on his guitar as Robbie sat beside him.

"Wish I could do that," Robbie said.

James glanced at him. "What?"

"Turn things inside me into music," Robbie said. "Feelings. Thoughts. Wish I could turn them into anything."

"Who says you can't?" James asked.

Robbie snorted. "Haven't got an artistic bone in me body. Life gave me lots of things, but it didn't give me art."

"What do you usually do with your feelings?" James asked. "Solve mysteries?"

"You solve mysteries in spite of your feelings," Robbie said, "not because of them. And anyway, I've gone off that now."

James plucked a faintly mocking melody. "You didn't answer the question."

"Which one?"

"What do you usually do with your feelings?"

"Try to forget I have them," Robbie said. "Listen, if you'd met my dad…I'm a bloody psychiatrist compared to him!"

James smiled. "Tight-lipped, was he?"

"You knew by the set of his mouth whether he was happy or unhappy with you. You didn't need words. Which was probably a good thing, because he didn't have very many."

James nodded. "My dad came from the same mould."

"I find that hard to believe," Robbie said. "You're so open about everything."

Open? Hah. James shook his head, adding a discordant note to his melody line. "Only with you."

"Yeah, but you must know people at work, surely."

"They learned early on not to expect much from me," James said. "To them, I suppose I'm just like my father." He nearly shuddered at the thought.

"Well," Robbie said loyally, "I know better."

James smiled. "I'm glad you do."

"James?"

"Mm?"

"If I die first, can I haunt you?"

James stopped playing, staring at Robbie. "Why would you say something like that?"

"If I'm going to talk to you, use your gift and that, I want to get permission."

"Yes, you can haunt me." James knew he sounded clipped and brusque, but he couldn't help it. That was always how he sounded when he was upset or bothered by something. He set aside his guitar, hunching forward in his seat.

Robbie leaned forward beside him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," James said. "I just don't like to think of you dying." Understatement of the year.

"I was trying to reassure you. I can come talk to you and you'll know I'm all right before I move on."

James shook his head. "When you die, your wife will be there waiting for you. Why would you bother with me?"

A shocked silence from Robbie. "Is that what you think?"

"It's only logical," James said. "I know how you miss Val. You'll want to be with her."

"Of course I will," Robbie said. "But if I've got this right, I know you'll miss me. So I want to come back and see you…make sure you're all right before I go."

"If you're dead, I won't be all right," James said, the words feeling breakable as little icicles.

"No," Robbie said slowly. "If you were dead, I don't think I'd be all right either. And you wouldn't be able to talk to me." He clasped his hands together in his lap. "I don't want to outlive anyone else. I've had enough of that."

"The down side of getting close to people," James said.

"Missing them when they die?" Robbie shook his head. "No, James. I mean, yes, it hurts that Val's gone. But my life without her…" His mouth trembled and he shook his head. "The people we care about make our lives, even if they take a piece of us with them when they go."

James nodded. "There's only one solution."

Robbie looked at him with eyebrows raised.

"Immortality."

Robbie snorted with laughter. "Is this the bit where Sean Connery appears and promises to teach us his ways?"

"It'sh poshible," James said, doing his best Sean Connery…which was, it had to be admitted, pretty bad.

"Stop that right now or I'll call the authorities," Robbie said.

James leaned back against the sofa, giving Robbie an amused look. "You are the authorities."

"I'll call meself then," Robbie said.

James chuckled, picking up his guitar and beginning to play again.

"I'll tell you what," Robbie said. "Why don't you write something for me?"

"For you to play?"

"No. Something…I dunno. Something you can dedicate to me."

James kept his eyes on his guitar as he spoke. "What makes you think I haven't already?"

"Have you?" Robbie asked, surprised.

James nodded.

"Would you play it for me sometime?"

Even though James wanted to say the words, he still found them difficult. "I can play it for you now, if you like."

"Yeah," Robbie said softly. "Yeah, I'd like to hear it."

James's piece for Robbie sounded deceptively simple, but was in fact full of complex melodies and countermelodies--a symphony for six strings, James might've claimed if he'd been a bit more pompous. He tried to focus on the way his fingers moved on the guitar and not on how Robbie was receiving the piece, although James did hear Robbie chuckle appreciatively at the brief quote from 'Romeo and Juliet' (the Dire Straits song, not the Prokofiev ballet) James had included in the piece.

Finally, James let the last chord fade into silence, afraid to look at anything other than his own hands as they rested on the guitar strings.

"You can play," Robbie said admiringly.

James lifted his gaze and gave Robbie a smile of pure, incandescent relief. "You like it."

Robbie nodded. "Very much."

James smiled down at his guitar. "I'd imagined playing it for you, but I'd thought it wouldn't be for a while. I had it all worked out. I was going to play it in passing one night while we were sitting here, and you'd leap to your feet and say how wonderful it was and ask me to play it again, at which point I'd tell you I'd written it for you."

"Sorry if I ruined your plans," Robbie said with a grin.

"No," James said, shaking his head. "It's better this way."

"Dunno about this leaping to my feet business," Robbie said, "but I'd like to hear it again."

James gave Robbie a delighted look. "Would you?"

Robbie nodded, and as James began to play the piece again, Robbie leaned back against the sofa, thoroughly relaxed, closing his eyes to listen.

James closed his own eyes and let the music come.


	13. Chapter 13

Robbie and James were washing the dishes when Robbie asked, "Something wrong?"

James's shoulders tensed, and he fought to keep his voice level. "Well, Robbie, after our many nights of friendly hugging, I've discovered I'm pregnant with your baby."

"Yeah, yeah," Robbie said, looking amused. "But what is it really?"

James shook his head. "You must be completely bored by me whinging about the same stuff all the time. What happened today isn't any different."

"It's not a question of me. It's a question of you and what you want to talk about," Robbie said. "Though I should point out that if you don't tell me, you won't tell anyone, and it'll just burn a hole inside you until you end up telling me anyway."

James winced slightly at the bluntness of the observation, but he knew Robbie wasn't wrong. "I had one of my episodes."

Robbie nodded. "At work?"

James shook his head. "I went to the supermarket after work. I was buying milk, and one of the other shoppers…" He ducked his head, torn between embarrassment and shy delight at the memory. "She was flirting with me."

Robbie smiled. "I'm not surprised. Did you flirt back?"

"I tried to," James said. "What do you mean, you're not surprised?"

"You're a good-looking bloke and all," Robbie said. "I'd be more surprised if girls didn't flirt with you."

James blushed. "It doesn't happen as often as you seem to think."

"Go on with your story," Robbie said. "You were flirting."

James stared at the pan he was drying, setting it aside to be put away later. "It didn't end well."

"She had a ghost?" Robbie prompted, voice gentle.

"Ex-boyfriend."

"Oh, James." There was no judgment in Robbie's voice or expression, only sympathy. "Did she take it badly?"

James touched his own cheek. "I don't remember much, but I think she slapped me." He looked at Robbie. "You were a captive audience. Val had time to convince you. Emma…the woman in the supermarket…she could walk away. And she did."

Robbie nodded. "It's a hard thing to believe sometimes."

"I know. And I don't blame her." But he slammed the plate he was drying onto the counter.

"Your plate might disagree," Robbie said mildly.

"I'm not angry with her or what she did. I'm frustrated with myself…that I can't stay myself for five minutes so I can have a conversation with someone I like without completely alienating her!" James snapped.

Robbie fell silent, and for a while they worked in tandem to put away the dishes. When that was done, they drifted back to James's sofa, where they sat in silence for a while.

"It makes me wonder," James said finally.

Robbie glanced at him. "Wonder what?"

"If this is how it's meant to work for me. If I'm supposed to experience everyone else's relationships because I'm not supposed to have one of my own." James stared at his feet. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't seen those other relationships. Then I wouldn't know what I was missing." He glanced at Robbie. "Do you think that's stupid?"

"No," Robbie said. "Of course not. Do you?"

"I don't know," James said. "I think it's stupid to pine for something out of reach."

Robbie nodded. "And do you think that's something out of reach, your having a relationship?"

James shook his head. How could he ever know that? "I suppose the only real way to find out is to keep reaching."

"I like that," Robbie said with a smile.

James gave Robbie a conspiratorial glance. "I'd like it better if I knew the answer in advance."

"We all would, James," Robbie said. "No one can see the future."

"Yes, but until fairly recently, you thought no one could talk to ghosts either," James said. "Maybe we just don't know the right people."

Robbie nudged James's shoulder with his own. "I know the right people."

James smiled at Robbie and nudged Robbie back.

Robbie chuckled. "Come on then, right people. Let's see what's on telly."

As James settled in next to Robbie, he wondered how Robbie was always able to make him feel better when something had gone wrong. But then…Robbie was his best friend. And you couldn't get much more important than that.

He let out a sigh of relaxation and leaned back, enjoying the prospect of spending another evening beside his best friend.


	14. Chapter 14

Robbie had put on some opera while he was getting after-dinner beers for them both, and James was leaning back against the sofa, relaxed and comfortable and listening to the music.

 _Hello, James._ It was Morse. James didn't know what Morse had sounded like in real life, but he had a very distinctive mental voice.

 _Morse_ , James answered.

_Do you mind if I speak to Robbie a moment?_

_No_ , James said. _Go ahead._

He felt the tingling, and then Robbie had returned with the beers.

"So," James said. "You did give Wagner a try after all."

Robbie gave James a once-over, and then smiled. "You weren't exactly subtle in your encouragement, sir."

"Opera's nothing to be subtle about," James said. "It isn't a timid sort of art."

"Well, Wagner certainly isn't," Robbie said, sitting a comfortable distance from James.

James chuckled. "What made you decide to try it?"

"It was important to you," Robbie said.

James hadn't known that would matter. He cleared his throat. "I see."

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

James glanced at Robbie. "Go on."

"What James can do. Are there others? People he could talk to about it?"

James shook his head. "I haven't found any others. More people claim to be able to do it than actually can, and I've tested a good number of them."

Robbie laughed.

James raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That's just the sort of ghost you'd be," Robbie said.

"Yes, well, I had to do something with my time," James said irritably. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What have you been up to?"

Robbie shook his head. "Not very much. Sometimes I think they'll never take me off light duties." His voice grew very quiet. "Sometimes I think I don't want them to." He gave James a hesitant look, as though he were afraid of what James might say.

James simply nodded. "I did wonder."

"Pretty sure I know what you're thinking," Robbie said, voice taut.

"I doubt that very much," James said. "There's no shame in it, Lewis."

"Don't patronise me," Robbie snapped.

"I wasn't," James said. "Have I ever done anything that would lead you to believe I'd patronise anyone without making it blindingly obvious?"

Robbie laughed in spite of himself. "No." He shrugged. "This sort of thing didn't happen when we worked together. You lending a sympathetic ear. I don't quite know how it works."

"Neither do I," James said, oddly relieved that this felt as odd to Robbie as it did to him. "But I am trying."

Robbie's expression softened, and he nodded. "I know you are."

James decided to change the subject. "James is good for you, isn't he?"

Robbie nodded again. "He gets me out of my head, which isn't always the best place to be."

"I understand," James said with a nod.

"Yeah," Robbie said. "I'm sure you do."

James cleared his throat. "Any additional questions before I return to realms beyond?"

"How can I help James?" Robbie asked. "I want to make his episodes easier, if I can."

"You have already," James said.

Robbie shook his head. "Not enough. If you saw him after, sir…"

"I have," James said brusquely. "James's is the sort of burden that can only be lightened, Lewis. Never lifted."

"Don't tell him that," Robbie said.

"He knows," James said. "He may not say so, but he knows."

Robbie slid James's beer over to him. "Want a beer, sir? Free of charge."

James gave Robbie a wry look. "I'm afraid not. Apparently ghosts and alcohol don't mix."

Robbie winced. "I didn't know that."

"It's all right," James said, eyeing the bottle a bit longingly. He sighed. "Time for me to go."

"Thanks for the visit, sir," Robbie said. "I'm always glad to see you."

James's first instinct was to parse Robbie's words for sarcasm, but there simply wasn't any. He meant it.

"Yes, well," James said, trying to sound gruff. "Try not to die before I come back." And then the ghost left him.

Robbie chuckled. "Bloody hell. You do know how to make someone feel welcome, don't you, sir?"

James blinked. "Sorry?"

"James?" Robbie moved closer; he'd been sitting at almost the opposite end of the sofa from Morse, but now he sat directly beside James, as he always did.

James nodded. "Morse has left the building."

"Just as well," Robbie said. "He was trying to get me to talk about things. Feelings. Bloody awkward."

"We talk about those things," James said.

"But Morse and I never did," Robbie said. "His feelings, once in a while. Not mine. Not often." He shook his head. "I must be worse off than I'd imagined if Morse feels he has to make sure I'm all right."

James shrugged.

"No, I know you don't remember," Robbie said. "Do you worry about me, James?"

"Yes," James said, "but not the way you mean. I worry about you the way you worry about me--I want you to be as all right as you can be, and I want to help if I can."

Robbie smiled slightly. "At least you understand. At work, they act like…I dunno. Like I'm not the person they've always known, like I'm someone with his face who frightens them, so they have to be careful what they say and do around me. I don't know what they think I'll do if they step wrong. Maybe I've already done it and didn't notice."

"I'm not sure I'm the one to ask if you want insight into other people," James said. Sometimes he barely had insight into himself.

"I'm sorry you didn't know me before," Robbie said, "but I'm glad too. Because you know what I'm like now, and that's not strange to you."

"Oh, you're very strange," James assured him, "but luckily, I'm so strange myself that I didn't particularly notice."

Robbie chuckled. "And you make me laugh. There were days I thought I'd never laugh again." He was leaning against James in their usual way, his presence a comforting, grounding warmth at James's side.

"It's been a lucky accident that my humour makes sense to you," James said. "It baffles some."

"Long as you make jokes in English and not Latin, you're fine," Robbie said.

James snorted. "No fear of that."

Most of the esoteric knowledge James had gained had come from books read on his own time; at school, he'd barely managed to scrape by, as lessons had the annoying tendency to be accompanied by ghosts. James didn't know who'd sat through the bulk of his Latin and Greek lessons, but it hadn't been him. Perhaps there was some ghost haunting the halls of his public school with a truly dizzying education in the classics.

"Sometimes," Robbie said, then stopped.

James turned to Robbie with a questioning look.

"I wonder if Val didn't know what she was doing," Robbie said. "When she asked you to talk to me."

James smiled at the idea. "You think she set us up?"

"I think she saw I wasn't managing on me own," Robbie said quietly. "I don't think she could've known we'd get on, but…I think she knew I needed someone to talk to."

"Well, if that's true," James said, "she did both of us a favour."

Robbie nodded. "She did." He closed his eyes, resting his head against James's shoulder. "I hope she's happy where she is. I hope she's got someone there to help her through, like you do for me."

"I hope so too," James said, remembering that sense of kindness he'd felt the first time Val had spoken with him.

"Because," Robbie murmured, "without ghosts, I wouldn't have found you. And that wouldn't do at all."

"No," James said, moving his arm to rest around Robbie's shoulders in a gentle hug.

Robbie sighed softly and was asleep.

That was all right. James would look after him.


	15. Chapter 15

James opened his front door to find Robbie swaying on his feet outside it.

"Do you mind," Robbie asked, "if I'm drunk in here?"

James bit back a smile and shook his head. "Not at all."

"Good," Robbie said, taking two steps inside, closing the door, and then throwing his arms around James. "I need a hug today."

James lifted his arms to return the hug. "What happened?"

"Was delivering files to a few people," Robbie said. "They were talking about an anniversary do for one of the DCIs tonight. I said, oh, I didn't know there was going to be one of those, and I'd bring a present."

"So far, so good," James said, manoeuvring his armful of drunken Robbie to the sofa so they could sit down. Robbie flopped down, shifting so that he wasn't hugging James any more but was nestled against his side. James took the hint and withdrew his own arms.

"And then one of them says, 'Oh, that's all right, Inspector. _You_ don't need to come.' " Robbie sagged against James. "I mean, yes, all right? Yes. I'm bloody jealous that other people are married and loved and their spouses are still alive." His voice shook as he continued. "But I would've managed. I would've bought a present and wished them well and been really happy for them. I would."

"You'd like to have been asked," James said.

"I don't need people to protect me from the world," Robbie said. "I need people to help me back into it." His eyes filled with tears. "I wouldn't have embarrassed anyone. I wouldn't have cried or got too drunk or anything. I know better." He looked at James. "I don't embarrass you, do I?"

"Of course not," James said. "Never."

Robbie nodded, still upset. "I just don't understand why they thought not inviting me would hurt less." He rested his head against James's shoulder. "I don't understand."

"No," James said. "I don't either, so I can't explain it to you."

"That's all right," Robbie said. James's T-shirt had drawn Robbie's attention, and he traced the pattern on the shirt with clumsy but careful fingers. "I know you're on my side."

James nodded. "Of course I am."

"I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here," Robbie said, his fingers still tracing the design on James's shirt. "I mean it, James. Things…" He paused for a moment. " 'Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold.' "

"Yeats," James said.

"I think so," Robbie said. He sighed and let his hand drop. "The kids are gone…Val's gone…work feels all wrong now. You're the only thing in my life that makes sense any more."

James snorted quietly. "I can't imagine in what context I make sense."

Robbie lifted his head and looked at James with a frown. "Don't say things like that. You're wonderful."

"Thank you very much," James said, both amused and moved that Robbie would say such a thing.

Robbie rested his head on James's shoulder again. "I think I'm finished, James. I don't think I can be a copper any more and I don't think I can go back to that place."

"What about a transfer?" James asked.

Robbie looked at James uncomprehendingly. "But you're here. Why would I leave?"

James felt an inner glow at Robbie's words, but he wanted to be fair. He wanted to help Robbie as much as he could, because Robbie would've done the same for him if he were the one struggling with his future plans. "We could always visit each other."

Robbie shook his head. "No. People promise to visit…they promise…and then there are always reasons they can't. It's busy at work. They're doing DIY. They've both taken extra shifts and can't manage the trip this time."

James suspected Robbie was thinking of two very specific people when he said that, and neither one was James. "I would visit."

Robbie shook his head. "I'm not as strong as you, James. You managed to be on your own and to make it work for you. I can't…" His voice broke and he shook his head.

James hugged Robbie. "You're not," he said. "You're not on your own."

Robbie nodded and leaned into the hug and they sat quietly together for a while.

Robbie pulled back, lifting his head and looking at James. "Can I stay here with you?"

"Of course," James said. "Why don't you take the bed, and I'll take the air mattress?"

Robbie smiled. "Thank you." He gave James another hug.

James patted Robbie's back gently. "Come on. I'll help you to bed."

It was easy enough to get Robbie into bed; Robbie was at that stage of drunkenness in which the easiest position to assume was a prone one. All James had to do was remove Robbie's shoes. Then James set up the air mattress for himself, bringing out some spare bedding and an extra pillow.

Robbie watched James from the bed. "I didn't know it would be so much work."

James shook his head. "It's inflating a mattress and making a bed. That's not work."

"Still," Robbie said quietly.

James looked up from his air mattress. "Whether it's work for me or not doesn't matter. You don't ever have to be alone if you don't want to be."

Robbie gave James a sweet, vulnerable smile. James had never seen him look so open before. "That's nice. Thank you."

"Of course," James said.

"It's different," Robbie said, "having a best mate. Haven't had one in a while. I'm glad it's you."

"So am I," James said.

Robbie gave James a sunny grin. "Goodnight, James."

"Goodnight, Robbie," James said, reaching up to click off the light. "Pleasant dreams."

If Robbie needed him tonight, James would be here. And he was glad to be.


	16. Chapter 16

James knocked urgently on Robbie's door, trying not to hold his breath waiting for someone to answer. After a moment or two, he knocked again, clasping his hands together tightly to stop them shaking.

Finally, Robbie opened the door, blinking and looking appropriately droopy-eyed and sleep-tousled for three AM. "James? What's wrong?"

"Are you all right?" James said.

"I'm fine," Robbie said. "Was just sleeping." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. As he looked James up and down, James flushed uncomfortably, aware that Robbie could use his police officer's eye to see all the telltale details--James's dishevelled appearance, his rumpled pyjamas, his bare feet.

"Why don't you come in?" Robbie asked.

James gave him a grateful look. "Thank you."

James wanted to pull Robbie into a hug the moment he crossed the threshold, but he wasn't sure such an action would be welcome. Some people didn't appreciate sudden hugs. Instead, James hovered awkwardly.

"Sit down, man," Robbie said. "I don't think I'm awake enough to make tea, but you can sit without tea, can't you?"

James nodded, sitting on the sofa. Robbie sat close beside James, touching his shoulder gently and waiting. James considered how to begin; surely starting with "I had a nightmare" would sound ridiculous and childish. No, he'd have to explain some other way.

"I came home," James said, "and you didn't live here. You'd never lived here. Your mobile number was disconnected, and the police had no record of you working there. You didn't exist."

Robbie nodded, staying silent in case there was more.

James stared at his hands, then shifted his gaze to Robbie. "I had to make sure, once I was awake…"

Robbie nodded, his eyes sympathetic. "I understand."

James leaned over, resting his head against Robbie's shoulder, and Robbie gave James a one-armed hug in return. James wanted to close his eyes and relax by Robbie's side, but he had to be sure this wasn't a dream, that Robbie was real and warm and next to him. He needed to keep his eyes open and stay alert.

"I'm here, James," Robbie said. "I'm right here."

James nodded, pressing his lips together tightly to try to keep his emotions under control.

Robbie's voice softened. "Cry if you want to, lad. I've cried enough in front of you."

James turned swiftly and hugged Robbie, hiding his face against Robbie's shoulder. Robbie held him close and patted his back.

Finally, James pulled back a bit, trying not to sniffle too conspicuously. "Sorry."

Robbie shook his head. "Believe me, I understand nightmares."

James nodded. "Yeah." He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Ugh."

Robbie looked thoughtful. "So what do you need? Do you need to stay here so you can see I'm fine?"

James looked at Robbie, startled. "Would you be all right with that?"

"You've let me stay over when I needed it," Robbie said. "I'm happy to do the same."

James nodded. "I'd like to stay."

"You've got your choice of the sofa or the bed," Robbie said. "I haven't got an air mattress."

James smiled slightly. "That's all right. I think I can rough it for the night."

Robbie chuckled. "The bed, then?"

"I don't want to exile you to the couch," James said.

"It's not an exile, James. I've fallen asleep there loads of times, usually watching telly."

"In that case, thank you," James said.

Robbie got to his feet. "I'll show you where everything is."

James hadn't been in Robbie's room since he'd helped Robbie unpack. The room had been fairly stark at that point, but it was beginning to show signs of personality now, with family pictures here and cosy jumpers there. Robbie darted here and there, tidying and collecting the things he'd need for the sofa. James didn't mind; in fact, he enjoyed watching Robbie do something that was at once homey and reassuring.

"Anything else you need?" Robbie asked from the doorway.

James shook his head. "No, thank you."

Robbie nodded. "Light switch is there. Goodnight, James."

"Goodnight, Robbie."

James snuggled beneath the blankets, finding the warm side of the bed where Robbie had slept until a few moments ago. After a moment's debate, James moved into the space. Some of the residual fear from the dream still hovered around him, and the warmth was another reminder that Robbie was here and all right.

James pulled Robbie's pillow closer, to rest beneath his head, and settled in to sleep.

***

When James woke the next morning, he was disorientated for a moment. This wasn't his room. Where…? Oh. He'd pelted over to Robbie's from his own flat after his nightmare, hadn't he?

"Shit," James groaned, pulling the covers up to hide his head. Things that seemed urgent and necessary in the middle of the night frequently seemed ludicrous by the light of day, and this was certainly no different. What must Robbie think of him? Probably that he was weak or foolish or overly emotional. To wake Robbie up because of a bad dream…how embarrassing.

James wandered warily into the front room, hoping Robbie might've needed to go to work early, but Robbie was standing in the kitchen making coffee.

"Morning," Robbie said with a warm smile. "I didn't know if I should wake you or not. Thought the aroma of coffee might be better than someone opening your bedroom door."

"Yeah," James said. "Thanks."

Robbie glanced at him. "Sleep all right?"

"Fine," James said. "I should probably…"

"No," Robbie said.

"No what?"

"If you were going to apologise, no, you shouldn't," Robbie said. "I was glad to see you."

James gave Robbie a dubious look. "You were glad to see me in the middle of the night?"

"I was," Robbie said. "I worry about you sometimes…that you won't ask for help if you need it." He looked at James. "Last night proved you would. You'd ask me. And that's what I want."

James was a bit astonished that Robbie had thought so much about this. "Oh."

"And," Robbie added, "if you were going to say you should get home, no to that as well, because I'm going to fry some eggs."

"Are you sure you have time?" James asked.

"Wouldn't have offered if I didn't," Robbie said with a warm smile. "I don't go in much for cooking but I do know how to fry an egg."

James smiled, taking a seat at the table. "I can hardly wait."

Robbie did, in fact, fry a brilliant egg. They ate together in amiable silence…at least, until Robbie said, "You have an open invitation."

James looked at him. "To do what?"

"To come here," Robbie said. "To stay here if you need to. You're always welcome."

James nodded. "You know you're always welcome at mine."

Robbie smiled back. "I do know. Thank you."

James found himself smiling down at his eggs for no good reason at all.


	17. Chapter 17

James was entering a stack of children's books into inventory when his mobile rang.

It was Robbie. "James?"

"Robbie. Everything all right?"

"I've just done something that was either fairly clever or completely daft, and I need you to tell me which it was."

James frowned at the phone. "What makes you think I'll know?"

"Even if you don't, you'll probably have an opinion."

James couldn't imagine Robbie doing anything that could be categorized as daft. "All right. Tell me."

"I gave my notice at work."

"Did you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just…I knew you were having second thoughts, but I didn't know you'd got as far as this."

"I was lying in bed this morning," Robbie said, "and I thought, imagine a morning I'd never have to go back there. And the thought of that was such a relief."

"Is it still?" James asked.

A long pause. "It is, actually."

James smiled. "Then I'd say clever."

"Not daft?"

"Definitely not daft."

"Thanks, James." Robbie sounded relieved. "I knew you'd understand."

James's smile grew at the compliment. "So you've got what, two more weeks?"

"Yeah. But we can talk more about that tonight; I don't want to keep you from your work."

"it's fine," James said. "I always have time for career advice."

Robbie laughed. "Got any books there that'll help me?"

James looked at the book he was currently holding-- _Mary Poppins._ "Any interest in being a magical flying nanny?"

"I might be good at that. I'd need magic lessons though."

"Oh, you can get those through the University," James deadpanned. "Or so I hear."

He could hear the smile in Robbie's voice. "I'll bring home takeaway for both of us tonight. What do you think?"

James smiled. "Sounds perfect. I'll see you later."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Gillian, one of the shop employees who stocked the shelves, was standing in the doorway, looking at James and smiling. "Have you got a special friend?"

James cleared his throat. "That's none of your business."

Gillian gave him a significant look. "I'm only asking because I'm happy for you, James."

The answer was probably yes, though not in the sense Gillian meant. James doubted he and Robbie would ever go to bed together, which seemed to be what Gillian's sly smile was implying. Nevertheless, Robbie was absolutely someone James would term a special friend…although, for James, any friend was a special friend.

"Thank you," James said.

Gillian paused, a few books in her hands. "For what?"

"For being happy for me," James said.

Gillian's expression grew sympathetic. "We'd all of us like you, James, if you let us."

But letting them like him meant danger. It meant inviting conversation and sharing information about his personal life and more exposure to people…more exposure to ghosts. And that meant more people who would learn his secret, who James couldn't keep from learning his secret.

James coughed. "Right. Well."

Gillian looked at him a moment more. Then she shook her head as she left the stock room.

Not for the first time, James wondered how Robbie had managed to sweep past his defences when even someone as innocuous as Gillian put him on high alert.

Luck, he supposed. Luck and good fortune.

***

Robbie arrived at half-six with Chinese food. "Hope this is all right."

"Perfect," James said. "You remembered my favourite?"

"Sweet and sour chicken," Robbie said.

"You're a genius," James said.

Robbie gave James an amused look. "For remembering what food you like?"

James nodded. "Genius."

"If you think that's impressive, I can also recite me name and address," Robbie said wryly.

James feigned astonishment. "That's amazing! So can I!"

Robbie chuckled. "Smartarse." He set James's takeaway container at his place at the table and then sat in his usual place with his food. James didn't know when they'd begun having usual places in each other's flats, but it was nice…one more sign of them being important in each other's lives.

"So?" James said. "Still feeling good about your decision?"

Robbie gave James a sheepish smile. "Counting down the days, actually." He shook his head. "I never would've done this when I had a family to support…quit my job without another job to go to."

"Will you be all right?" James asked. "Financially, I mean."

"I've got some money put away," Robbie said. "But I'll have to cut back in certain areas. And, much as I hate to, I think I might have to give up me flat."

James nodded. "Will you move back into the house?"

"I can't," Robbie said. "I should sell it, but…I don't know if I can do that either, because I'd have to go through her things, and…" He shook his head. "I know it makes no sense having an empty house full of things that are never going to be used again. I _know_ that. But it was our house, hers and mine, and giving it up, getting rid of her things…it's so final, James."

"I understand," James said. He paused. "Why not move in here, with me?"

Robbie looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Be my flatmate," James suggested. "You'll burn through your savings more slowly if you're only paying half what you've been paying. And I'll only be paying half of what I usually pay, so you'd be helping me."

Robbie looked round the flat. "You're a young man. You'll want your own space."

"I don't want my own space. I've had my own space," James said, too quickly.

Robbie's mouth trembled and he looked down at his meal. "Yeah, it's rubbish."

James tipped his head slightly to one side. "Does that mean yes?"

Robbie nodded. "If you're sure."

James nodded in turn.

"I'll have to fix things with the landlord," Robbie said, "but soon as I do that, maybe you can help me move my things over here."

"Be glad to," James said.

"I'll be pulling my weight, though," Robbie said. "I'll pay half the rent, but I want to pay for half the food as well. It's only fair."

"All right."

"My cooking's a bit limited, but you don't have to cook for us every night if you don't want," Robbie said hurriedly. "I'll do me share. With other things too. What don't you like to do round the house--cleaning the loo maybe? Or--"

"Robbie," James interrupted. "Stop trying to sell yourself. I'm already sold."

Robbie poked at his food with his fork. "It's just that all the inconvenience is on your side. I want to make some of it up to you."

"Inconvenience?" James said, frowning at him. "I get to see you every day. I get to be here if you need someone. And you're here if I need you. Where's the inconvenience in that?"

Robbie nodded, silently acknowledging James's point. He was clearly wrestling with some fairly intense emotions, and he just as clearly was not going to tell James what they were.

"We can discuss the details later," James said lightly. "Your food's getting cold."

Robbie glanced at the fork in his hand as though it surprised him. "Forgot I was eating."

"That's why you've got me," James said in the same light tone.

Robbie looked at James for a moment. Then he smiled. "Is that why? I was beginning to wonder."

James smiled in turn. "Now you know."

As was usual with Robbie, his eyes and facial expression said more than his words did. Right now, his smile told James that he was grateful for all this…and that he was looking forward to what lay ahead for him for the first time in a long while.

"Yeah," Robbie said. "Now I know."


	18. Chapter 18

James was awakened by the soft sound of bare feet padding from the spare room into the living room. Robbie had been living with James a week now, and James hadn't quite got used to the sounds of someone else in the house. He still woke up every time Robbie went to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

After a few moments, when Robbie didn't return to his room, James pushed aside his covers and followed him into the living room.

Robbie was sitting on the sofa in the dark. "James? Everything all right?"

"Yeah," James said, taking a seat on the sofa beside Robbie. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I have nightmares," Robbie said.

James rested a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "You're safe here."

"No," Robbie said, voice sounding a bit choked. "If I've learned anything, it's that nothing is ever safe. Nothing and no one."

"Not even me?" James asked, keeping his tone lighthearted.

"Do you remember the first time you asked me to move in here, when I was looking for a flat of me own?"

"Of course," James said.

"Do you know why I said no?"

"You told me at the time it was because you liked to do things a certain way," James said, wondering what Robbie was driving at.

"No," Robbie said. "I mean, yes, I did tell you that, but it was a lie."

"You lied to me?"

Robbie sounded deeply ashamed. "I'm sorry."

James was still trying to make sense of what Robbie was telling him, but there was a huge gap in the information he had. "Why did you feel you had to lie?"

"The real reason wasn't…" Robbie trailed off. "Do you want to know the real reason?"

James nodded, then realised Robbie couldn't see him in the dark. "Yes, I do."

Robbie's voice dropped to a whisper. "I was afraid of getting close to someone else who might die."

James hadn't expected that. He remained speechless.

"We were friends," Robbie said. "I already liked you enough that losing you would've been a blow, and I was afraid that if we got to be flatmates…" His voice cracked. "I don't know how many times I can lose my best friend."

"But you're here," James said. "What changed?"

"Couldn't do without you, could I? Some days I promised myself I would…that I'd skip seeing you, just to show I could do it. But I didn't want to do it. I wanted to tell you about my day and hear about yours and listen to you talk about books and make sarcastic comments about things."

"Oh," James whispered. He hadn't known Robbie was trying to stay away…obviously Robbie hadn't told him that…but one reason he hadn't noticed may well have been that Robbie was so rubbish at managing it.

"And I thought, is that what this is? I'm so afraid of losing you later I'll force myself to lose you now?" Robbie sighed. "It made no sense not to spend time with you when you were alive. Not even with everything that might happen."

James gave Robbie a gentle hug. "I'm glad you're here."

Robbie leaned into the hug. "So am I. But sometimes I can't get it out of my head that you'll go too."

"I wish I could see the future so I could tell you whether or not it would happen," James said.

"I don't wish that. Not for a minute," Robbie said. "Because if you saw it would…you can never be prepared, James. You can tell yourself you are and think your way through it and imagine all the options. When it comes, you're never ready and it always hurts."

James nodded. "I believe you." He paused. "May I ask what you dreamt?"

"It wasn't you tonight," Robbie said. "It was the kids. I texted them when I woke up, and they both answered, so I know they're all right. But I couldn't get back to sleep after that."

"I'm glad they're all right," James said.

Robbie leaned more heavily against James. "I'm so tired of bad dreams."

"I'm sure," James said.

"I used to fly, you know. In my dreams. No wings or anything. I just sort of knew how to do it. Every night I'd go flying. It's been such a long time now."

"I'd help you if I knew how," James said.

Robbie's hand found his, even in the dark. "I know you would. You're a good lad."

"I try to be," James said.

Robbie was quiet for a while. "Morse said once, back when he was alive, that I relied on people too much. I thought he was being stroppy--he was a lot of the time--or cynical. These days, I think he was probably right, but at this point, there's bugger-all I can do about it. I do need people. Always have, all my life. I don't know how to change that, and even if I did, I don't think I'd want to."

"I'm glad you need people," James said. If Robbie hadn't needed people so much, James would still be on his own.

Robbie hugged James. "Never mind my ramblings. It's late, and I'm tired."

"I wouldn't call them ramblings," James said. "And you know I'll listen to anything you want to say."

Robbie sighed. " 'For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.' "

It took James a moment to locate the source of the quote in his own memory. "Shakespeare?"

"Have to keep up with you well-read blokes," Robbie said.

"You must be well-read yourself," James said. "You're always quoting things."

Robbie chuckled. "I started reading more to try to keep up with Morse. He could quote anything from Kipling to Housman quick as you like, and I got tired of having to have things explained to me all the time. Once he was gone, I kept reading. Well, the stuff I liked, anyway. Made me feel as though he hadn't left. Course, that was before I knew he actually hadn't."

"Someone I loved used to read to me," James said. He would never have told even Robbie this story on an ordinary day, but it was dark and late, and Robbie couldn't see his face. Somehow, that helped. "When she died, I read her books, every book she'd owned, until they were falling apart, trying to hold on to the way her voice sounded."

"She came to you as a ghost, surely," Robbie said.

"I thought she would," James said. "I was sure she would. But she never did." He had been inconsolable when he'd realised she wasn't coming back. It still upset James to think that perhaps he would never be permitted any ghosts of his own. Once it wouldn't have mattered so much, but once he hadn't known Robbie. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now." But it did matter, and James knew Robbie would understand that.

Robbie was quiet a long time. Then he sighed. "Ghosts, eh, James?"

"Yes," James said softly. "Ghosts."

There was another long silence between them.

"Well," Robbie said finally, "when the newspaper comes tomorrow, I want you to look at the film listings and see what's on."

"I can do that," James said. "Am I looking for anything in particular?"

"Something no one will go to," Robbie said. "Either something unpopular or something that isn't new."

James frowned. "And why am I finding films that no one will go to see?"

"Because I think we should do something fun tomorrow, and I want to take you to a film without any ghosts getting in the way."

When was the last time James had been inside a cinema? Probably when he'd been a child.

"I'd like that," James said. "Thank you."

"Thank you for letting a miserable old sod get a few things off his chest," Robbie said.

"Next time, wake me up," James said, tone facetious but intention serious. "It's more efficient."

Robbie understood. "All right."

They were both tired, but neither one wanted to move. So they fell asleep together on the sofa.

Neither one had any more nightmares that night.


	19. Chapter 19

When Robbie closed the door to the flat, James jumped and nearly dropped the mug he was holding. As it was, he splashed hot tea all over his hands. "Shit!"

"Are you all right?" Robbie asked, hurrying over.

James set aside the mug, shaking his hands over the sink to dry them. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Robbie turned on the tap. "Hold them under the cool water. If you've burnt them, the cold will keep the burn from getting too bad." Robbie's hands gently guided James beneath the running water. "What happened? Did I startle you?"

"It's nothing," James said. "Just me being stupid."

"Can't imagine you being stupid," Robbie said. "Come on. Let's have it."

"I haven't had an episode in almost two weeks," James said.

Robbie frowned. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, but…" James tried to think of a way to explain how he felt. "Imagine you're at the cinema, watching a film. In the first few minutes, there's something meant to be startling. And you jump. A few minutes later, there's something else meant to be startling, and you jump again. So now you're waiting for the next startling thing to happen, and the longer you have to wait, the more nervous you get, and the more you dread being startled."

"Is it that bad?"

James nodded. It might technically be a bit worse than that, but he didn't want Robbie to think he was whinging.

Robbie guided James's hands out from beneath the cold water, picking up the nearby dish towel to pat them dry. "Better?"

James nodded. "Cheers."

"I'm sorry you're so on edge," Robbie said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You don't have to do anything special," James said. "I've lived like this for ages. Just don't be too surprised if I jump at loud noises."

Robbie nodded. "Right." He tipped his head toward the sofa. "Come on. Let's sit, and I'll tell you about my day."

"Yes, I meant to ask how the job search is going," James said as they crossed to the sofa.

"Think I'll have something before too long," Robbie said, sitting down. "I talked to the blokes at fire and rescue today."

James tamped down the raw panic he felt at the idea of Robbie running into burning buildings and toward danger. "Did you?"

Robbie touched James's arm. "Not like that, lad. They're looking for people to answer the phones, people who can stay calm in a crisis and tell the people they work with what needs to be done."

James smiled. "That sounds like you."

"I think it'll be easier trying to stop bad things before they happen," Robbie said. "Gets a bit dispiriting trying to put the pieces together afterwards."

"I'm amazed you managed to do it for so long," James said. "I don't think I'd have the temperament."

"Dunno that it's a matter of temperament," Robbie said. "If you're willing to work hard and do your job…well, that got me through for a long time."

James nodded. "Is it wrong to say I'm glad you won't be in the thick of things?"

"No," Robbie said. "That was always Val's worry too. She'd have liked this."

"She probably does like it," James said. "Didn't she say she'd always be nearby?"

"Yeah," Robbie said. "Wish I could feel her though. You know how some people can feel ghostly presences."

"Yes, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone," James said wryly.

"Tell me if it's none of my business," Robbie said, "but what does it feel like? You always seem to know when they're nearby."

"Sort of," James said. "Most of the time I only feel them when they have something they want me to do or say. Val could be here all the time, but unless she was trying to talk to you through me, I wouldn't feel her."

"Suppose it'd be a bit strange always feeling the presences of people you didn't want to talk to," Robbie said.

James shuddered. "It would make them harder to ignore. I used to dream when I was younger that I could see them. Thankfully, I can't. Can you imagine trying to work out who in a room was living and who wasn't?"

"Not something I've thought about before, but no, I can't," Robbie said. "I can't imagine putting up with half of what you do in a day, James."

James snorted. "Is that a joke?"

"No, it's not," Robbie said firmly.

James frowned at Robbie. "You're a police officer. You face things daily that would send me home in ten minutes."

"And you figured out how to live a workable life, even with everything that could've got in the way," Robbie said. "That's not a small thing. It shouldn't feel small."

"It doesn't," James said. "Most of the time it feels terrifying."

Robbie nodded. "Even now?"

"I wish I could say you made it all better," James said. "I wish it were true. The fear's there, Robbie. It's always going to be there. It's part of me now. And I'm sorry if that disappoints you…"

"Do I seem disappointed?" Robbie asked gently.

"Would you tell me if you were?"

"I would," Robbie said. "And I'm not."

"Okay," James said. He paused, wondering if he should share what he was thinking…all of what he was thinking. "I'm disappointed. Sometimes I think, most people don't think like this. They're not afraid of these things. And if I could change myself so I didn't have to be, I would've done it ages ago." He shook his head. "For someone who likes to be in control as much as possible, what I am is a nightmare."

"I wish I could help," Robbie said quietly.

James looked at Robbie, startled. "You do. I said you couldn't fix everything for me, but…I never meant you don't help. You help all the time." He rested his head on Robbie's shoulder. "You're helping now."

"That's good," Robbie said. "Isn't it?"

James laughed softly. "Of course it is." He opened his eyes and looked over at Robbie. "Promise me something."

"I will if I can," Robbie said.

James shook his head. "No. Promise even if you can't."

"Do I get to find out what I'm promising?"

"Promise you'll never be one of my ghosts," James said, "because you won't have to be, because you won't die."

"This is that immortality thing we've talked about?" Robbie's voice was warm and affectionate.

James nodded against Robbie's shoulder. "It is."

"You have to promise the same."

James smiled. "I promise."

"Then so do I," Robbie said. "Even if that means we have to fight with swords."

James hummed, eyes drifting closed. "I don't know how to use a sword."

"Neither do I," Robbie said. "Suppose that means we're safe."

"That'd be nice," James murmured. Feeling safe was generally a rare commodity for him, although it was less rare now Robbie'd come into his life.

A gentle hand brushed over James's hair. "Bit knackered, are we?"

"Very," James said. His anxiety always caught up to him at the end of the day, and it was catching up to him now. He felt almost achingly tired. "But I should get up. See to supper."

"There'll be time enough for that," Robbie said. "I think we could both do with staying here a bit longer."

James smiled, glad that Robbie was as ready to comfort James as James was to comfort Robbie.

"I can't argue with that," James said.


	20. Chapter 20

"James," Robbie whispered.

James mentally pulled himself out of sleep, opening one eye. "Mmm?"

"Are you all right?" Robbie whispered, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

"Mm-hmm," James said. He wasn't much given to wordiness immediately upon waking this late--or was it early? He'd have to move to check the clock, and that wasn't a terribly appealing option. Anyway, it was dark out.

"All right," Robbie whispered. "Goodnight."

"Where y'goin'?" James asked sleepily.

"Back to bed," Robbie said. "As you're fine and all."

"C'mere," James murmured. "Sit."

Robbie shuffled into the room, sitting on the edge of James's bed.

"Bad dream?" James asked.

"Yeah," Robbie said.

James reached over and patted Robbie's side. "'M okay."

"Yeah," Robbie said, reaching out to take James's hand in his. "I know."

James yawned, closing the eye he'd opened. "Lie down if you want. 'S late."

"You don't mind?" Robbie asked, clearly quite eager to stay.

"Makes me feel better too," James murmured, scooting clumsily to the far side of the bed. "C'mon."

Robbie lay down, James's hand still in his. "Thanks."

"Symbiosis," James said.

"Gesundheit."

"No, I mean we are. Symbiotic."

"Oh. Erm, that's the thing where you've got two things that exist together, yeah?"

"For the good of both," James confirmed, giving Robbie's hand a squeeze.

Robbie's voice got very soft. "You think we are?"

"I know it," James said.

Robbie was quiet for a long while. "Think I like that."

"Me too," James said.

"Does that mean I get spots?"

James frowned. "What?"

"On Star Trek. The alien with the symbiont had little skin markings all round her face."

"I suppose you can have them if you want them," James said.

Robbie chuckled, then fell silent. "If you want me to let go of your hand…"

"No," James said. "I don't."

"Okay."

James squeezed Robbie's hand again, just for good measure. "Better with you here."

"Was just thinking that," Robbie said.

James yawned. "Maybe if you're here, you won't be able to dream I'm in danger. Cos you'll know I'm not."

"That'd be nice," Robbie said. "God…I've missed this."

"What?"

"Being next to someone in the dark. Talking. Or not. I was so used to someone being there, and every time I woke up alone…" Robbie's voice trailed off.

"Clearly we need more sleepovers," James said.

"Clearly," Robbie said, sounding amused. "I'm already in your flat, James. How much closer can I get?"

"As close as you want," James said.

Robbie's breath caught, and he gave James's hand a long squeeze. "Goodnight, man."

"Night, Robbie," James said, already half-asleep.

***

When James woke the next morning, he opened his eyes to see Robbie, holding James's hand to his chest, his own hands covering James's as if to shield it. _He protects me even in his sleep._

"Can feel you staring," Robbie said, opening his eyes.

"I wasn't staring," James said. "Just looking." He'd expected Robbie to push his hand away in the cold light of day, but Robbie didn't.

"This is still all right?" Robbie asked, giving James a chance to object if he wanted to.

James didn't want to. "It is."

Robbie smiled. "Symbiosis, eh?"

James nodded. "Symbiosis."

Robbie sighed softly. "Suits me."

It suited James too.


	21. Chapter 21

James looked up from preparing dinner, smiling at Robbie as he came through their front door. "How was work today?"

"Uneventful," Robbie said. "And I was glad."

James nodded. "It's probably good to ease into these things."

"I'm all right in a crisis," Robbie said. "Only it's all new, this answering phones and marshalling resources."

"I'm sure you're brilliant at it," James said loyally.

Robbie gave him a dubious but amused look. Then he sniffed the air. "Is that pizza?"

"And salad," James said, gesturing to the bowl he was currently adding tomatoes to. "But mostly pizza. I thought you deserved a treat."

"Homemade pizza is that," Robbie said. "Doesn't the dough take ages?"

James shook his head. "That's what breadmakers are for." He finished tossing the salad. "The pizza should be ready in another five minutes."

"I'm not in a hurry," Robbie said, taking a seat at the table. "How was your day?"

"Busy, but good," James said. "I actually dared to ask Gillian if she wouldn't mind picking up a sandwich from a nearby cafe for me today."

"I think she likes you," Robbie said.

James shook his head. "No. She's dating a footballer. Long-distance. Ever since she decided I was an appropriate confidant, I've heard far too much about him. Besides, she thinks I'm dating you."

"Does she?"

"It stops her trying to matchmake for me," James said.

Robbie nodded. "Right." He paused. "I've lost track of the story you were telling. Did she actually pick up the sandwich for you?"

"She did," James said.

"Good."

"I thought so."

James still wasn't confident enough to go to a cafe on his own, though he might've tried it with Robbie. The problem was that an episode was almost guaranteed among the lunchtime crowds, and James didn't want to miss an afternoon of work because someone had spirited him away to hospital. But James had thawed a fair amount in his approach to his coworkers, and was finding them to be, on the whole, not a bad lot. Robbie had encouraged him, of course, saying, "Just for variety's sake, James, you probably ought to have a friend or two other than me." James's coworkers didn't know his secret, of course, but they knew more about him now than they had known when he was trying to keep his distance. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, because James still had to beg off when they invited him places, but it was better than it had been.

"Still enjoying the books?" Robbie asked.

James grinned at him. "I always enjoy the books."

Robbie chuckled. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to."

"About that," James said. "I actually saw something at the shop today I thought you might like. It's at your end of the sofa."

Robbie looked surprised and pleased. "Ta."

"I can't promise you much," James said lightly, "but I can promise you books. And pizza."

"You have more than that on offer, and you know it," Robbie said. "I'm only sorry I don't work somewhere I can bring things home from for you."

"You bring yourself," James said. "That's a perfectly acceptable thing to bring."

Robbie gave James a lopsided smile of thanks.

"There," James said. "The pizza's done. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," Robbie said. "Or should I say 'literally starving'?"

James groaned. "No, you shouldn't."

"There's a bloke at work who talks like that all the time," Robbie said. "I'm getting a bit tired of it. Literally."

James laughed. "It's nice to know my pedantry is catching."

"If that's the worst thing I ever catch from you, I'll be a happy man," Robbie said.

James set the pizza on a placemat on the table, placing the bowl of salad beside it. "Help yourself."

"Thanks," Robbie said, wasting no time before tucking in. "Mm. Perfect."

James beamed. "Thank you." It was much more enjoyable cooking knowing there was someone else besides him who would eat his cooking and enjoy it. James already had a mental list of six or seven foods that were Robbie's favourites, and he looked forward to adding to it.

As they were doing the washing-up after dinner, Robbie said, "You haven't brought out your guitar in donkeys' years. Why don't you tonight?"

James smiled. "Of course. I can take requests."

"Been working on anything new lately?"

"A few things in my head," James said, "but they haven't been translated to my fingers yet."

"You haven't stopped playing because of me, have you? You know I like to hear you."

"Some days I play a bit before you get home," James said. "I know you like listening, and I want to keep it that way. I don't want to be a four-year-old with the pots and pans, forcing you to listen to what I call music when you may not want to."

"I've had a four year old with pots and pans. Two of them. And believe me, your music is nothing like that," Robbie said.

James laughed. "Thank you, I think."

Robbie nudged James's arm with his elbow. "Seriously. Play as much as you like. I'll tell you if it gets to be too much."

"All right," James said, drying the last dish and then his hands. "I take it you'd like to hear some now?"

"Yeah," Robbie said. "And talk me through what you're working on."

For some reason, Robbie genuinely seemed to enjoy hearing James plunk away at the guitar strings and explain what he'd been thinking about when he wrote a certain bit of melody, or when a bit from one of his tunes was a quote from something else. Robbie asked questions too, and James suspected that if he could be encouraged, Robbie might yet turn out to be a musician himself. He knew quite a bit about music already.

"It's nice that you're interested in this," James said.

"I like music," Robbie said. "And when you talk about music, you light from the inside…a bit like when you talk about books, but with music, it seems more personal."

James nodded. "It is more personal. I could never write a book, but music makes sense to me. And it's been a way for me to express myself when I didn't have anyone to express myself to." He looked at Robbie. "I think I'll always come up with melodies, or try to, but it's not as urgent for me to pour myself into them now I have someone to talk to."

Robbie's gaze softened, and he smiled, scooting closer to James. "Go on, play the one I like. The one you wrote for me."

James did, and Robbie listened with just as much appreciation as he had the first night James had played for him.

"Can I tell you something?" Robbie asked. "I think you changed my life."

James looked down at his guitar, strumming a few idle chords. "I know you changed mine."

"There's a folk festival this weekend," Robbie said. "I've got the day off, and thought you might like to go."

James nodded. "I would. I can't promise no one else will make an appearance."

"That's all right," Robbie said. "I'll wait for you to come back."

James smiled, picking a rambling melody from the strings of his guitar.

"I always do, don't I?" Robbie said.

James met Robbie's eyes and nodded. "You always do."

Eventually, James put his guitar away, and the two of them sat together watching telly until Robbie fell asleep. James often teased him about always being the first to fall asleep, and Robbie always responded with the warm good humour so characteristic of him.

James didn't really mind Robbie falling asleep. It meant Robbie was comfortable and relaxed, and James was glad of that.

Robbie didn't even wake when James turned off the television. Instead, he mumbled something incoherent and rested his head against James's shoulder. That was just as common as Robbie falling asleep, and James minded it just as little.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, James draped his arm around Robbie's shoulders. Robbie let out a happy sigh, leaning into the embrace, and James wondered yet again how he had been lucky enough to happen upon Robbie Lewis as a roommate and a best friend.

 _Val,_ James thought, _if you're listening, thank you._

It may have been his imagination, but James could've sworn he heard a woman's soft, friendly laughter somewhere in the distance.

James leaned his cheek against Robbie's head, but he didn't want to sleep. He just wanted this.

And, against all odds, he had it.


End file.
